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LIBRARY 

Theological  Seminary, 

PRINCETON,  N.  J. 

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'  ^ 


* 


9 


i 

i 


i 


\ 


v 


•* 

A 

i 


A  GENERAL  VIEW 


OF  THE 


PROGRESS  OF  ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY, 


CHIEFLY  DURING  THE 


SEVENTEENTH  AND  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURIES. 


BY  THE  RIGHT  HONOURABLE 


✓ 

SIR  JAMES  MACKINTOSH,  LL.D.  F.R.S.  M.P. 


Pulatteljrftta: 

CAREY  AND  LEA— CHESNUT  STREET. 


1832. 


Philadelphia : 

Printed  by  James  Kay,  Jun.  &  Co. 
Printers  to  the  American  Philosophical  Society. 
No.  4,  Minor  Street. 


CONTENTS 


Introduction, 


Page 

I 


SECTION  1. 


Preliminary  Observations,  .  .  .9 


SECTION  II. 


Retrospect  of  Ancient  Ethics,  .  .  .  .16 


SECTION  III. 

Retrospect  of  Scholastic  Ethics,  .  .  .  .33 


SECTION  IV. 


Modern  Ethics,  .  .  .  <  .52 

Hobfyes,  .  .  .  .  .55 


SECTION  V. 


Controversies  concerning  the  Moral  Faculties  and  the  Social  Affections, 
Cumberland,  ..... 

Cudworth,  ..... 

Clarke,  . 

Earl  of  Shaftesbury,  .... 
Fenelon,  ..... 

Bossuet,  ..... 

Leibnitz,  ..... 

Malebranche,  .... 

Jonathan  Edwards,  .... 

Buffer,  ..... 


70 

70 

73 

78 

88 

96 

96 

100 

106 

108 

110 


CONTENTS. 


SECTION  VI 

Page. 

Foundations  of  a  more  just  Theory  of  Ethics,  .  .112 

Butler,  .  .  .  .  .  113 

Hutcheson,  .  .  .  .  '  .  125 

Berkeley,  .....  129 

David  Hume,  .  .  .  .  .134 

Adam  Smith,  .  .  .  .  147 

Richard  Price,  .  156 

David  Hartley,  ....  157 

Abraham  Tucker,  .  .  .  .176 

William  Paley,  .  .  .  .  180 

Jeremy  Bentham,  ....  189 

Dugald  Stewart,  ....  212 

Thomas  Brown,  ....  230 

SECTION  VII. 

General  Remarks,  ....  243 

Notes  and  Illustrations,  .  .  .  283 


i 


INTRODUCTION. 


The  inadequacy  of  the  words  of  ordinary  language 
for  the  purposes  of  philosophy,  is  an  ancient  and  frequent 
complaint;  of  which  the  justness  will  be  felt  by  all  who 
consider  the  state  to  which  some  of  the  most  important 
arts  would  be  reduced,  if  the  coarse  tools  of  the  common 
labourer  were  the  only  instruments  to  be  employed  in 
the  most  delicate  operations  of  manual  expertness.  The 
watchmaker,  the  optician,  and  the  surgeon,  are  pro¬ 
vided  with  instruments,  which  are  fitted,  by  careful 
ingenuity,  to  second  their  skill;  the  philosopher  alone  is 
doomed  to  use  the  rudest  tools  for  the  most  refined  pur¬ 
poses.  He  must  reason  in  words  of  which  the  looseness 
and  vagueness  are  suitable,  and  even  agreeable,  in  the 
usual  intercourse  of  life,  but  which  are  almost  as 
remote  from  the  extreme  exactness  and  precision  re¬ 
quired,  not  only  in  the  conveyance,  but  in  the  search  of 
truth,  as  the  hammer  and  the  axe  would  be  unfit  for  the 
finest  exertions  of  skilful  handiwork;  for  it  is  not  to  be 
forgotten,  that  he  must  himself  think  in  these  gross 
words  as  unavoidably  as  he  uses  them  in  speaking  to 
others.  He  is  in  this  respect  in  a  worse  condition  than 
an  astronomer  who  looked  at  the  heavens  only  with  the 
naked  eye,  whose  limited  and  partial  observation,  how¬ 
ever  it  might  lead  to  error,  might  not  directly,  and 
would  not  necessarily  deceive.  He  might  be  more 
justly  compared  to  an  arithmetician  compelled  to  em¬ 
ploy  numerals  not  only  cumbrous,  but  used  so  irregu- 
A 


2 


INTRODUCTION. 


larly  to  denote  different  quantities,  that  they  not  only 
often  deceived  others,  but  himself. 

The  Natural  Philosopher  and  Mathematician  have  in 
some  degree  the  privilege  of  framing  their  own  terms 
of  art ;  though  that  liberty  is  daily  narrowed  by  the 
happy  diffusion  of  these  great  branches  of  knowledge, 
which  daily  mixes  their  language  with  the  general  voca¬ 
bulary  of  educated  men.  The  cultivator  of  Mental  and 
Moral  Philosophy  can  seldom  do  more  than  mend  the 
faults  of  his  words  by  definition;  a  necessary  but  very 
inadequate  expedient,  in  a  great  measure  defeated  in 
practice  by  the  unavoidably  more  frequent  recurrence 
of  the  terms  in  their  vague  than  in  their  definite  accep¬ 
tation;  in  consequence  of  which  the  mind,  to  which  the 
definition  is  faintly  and  but  occasionally  present,  natu¬ 
rally  suffers,  in  the  ordinary  state  of  attention,  the  sci¬ 
entific  meaning  to  disappear  from  remembrance,  and 
insensibly  ascribes  to  the  word  a  great  part,  if  not  the 
whole,  of  that  popular  sense  which  is  so  very  much  more 
familiar  even  to  the  most  veteran  speculator.  The  ob¬ 
stacles  which  stood  in  the  way  of  Lucretius  and  Cicero, 
when  they  began  to  translate  the  subtile  philosophy  of 
Greece  into  their  narrow  and  barren  tongue,  are  always 
felt  by  the  philosopher  when  he  struggles  to  express, 
with  the  necessary  discrimination,  his  abstruse  reason¬ 
ings  in  words  which,  though  those  of  his  own  language, 
he  must  take  from  the  mouths  of  those  to  whom  his  dis¬ 
tinctions  would  be  without  meaning. 

The  Moral  Philosopher  is  in  this  respect  subject  to 
peculiar  difficulties.  His  statements  and  reasonings  of¬ 
ten  call  for  nicer  discriminations  of  language  than  those 
which  are  necessary  in  describing  or  discussing  the 
purely  intellectual  part  of  human  nature;  but  his  free¬ 
dom  in  the  choice  of  words  is  more  circumscribed.  As 
he  treats  of  matters  on  which  all  men  are  disposed  to 
form  a  judgment,  he  can  as  rarely  hazard  glaring  inno- 


INTRODUCTION. 


3 


vations  in  diction,  at  least  in  an  adult  and  mature  language 
like  ours,  as  the  orator  or  the  poet.  If  he  deviates  from 
common  use,  he  must  atone  for  his  deviation  by  hiding 
it,  and  can  only  give  a  new  sense  to  an  old  word  by  so 
skilful  a  position  of  it  as  to  render  the  new  meaning  so 
quickly  understood  that  its  novelty  is  scarcely  perceived. 
Add  to  this,  that  in  those  most  difficult  inquiries  for 
which  the  utmost  coolness  is  not  more  than  sufficient,  he 
is  often  forced  to  use  terms  commonly  connected  with 
warm  feeling,  with  high  praise,  with  severe  reproach; 
which  excite  the  passions  of  his  readers  when  he  most 
needstheir  calm  attention  and  the  undisturbed  exercise  of 
their  impartial  judgment.  There  is  scarcely  a  neutral 
term  left  in  Ethics;  so  quickly  are  such  expressions  en¬ 
listed  on  the  side  of  praise  or  blame,  by  the  address  of 
contending  passions.  A  true  philosopher  must  not  even 
desire  that  men  should  less  love  virtue  or  hate  vice,  in 
order  to  fit  them  for  a  more  unprejudiced  judgment  on 
his  speculations. 

There  are  perhaps  not  many  occasions  where  the 
penury  and  laxity  of  language  are  more  felt  than  in  en¬ 
tering  on  the  history  of  sciences  where  the  first  measure 
must  be  to  mark  out  the  boundary  of  the  whole  subject 
with  some  distinctness.  But  no  exactness  in  these  im¬ 
portant  operations  can  be  approached  without  a  new 
division  of  human  knowledge,  adapted  to  the  present 
stage  of  its  progress,  and  a  reformation  of  all  those 
barbarous,  pedantic,  unmeaning,  and  (what  is  worse) 
wrong-meaning  names  which  continue  to  be  applied  to 
the  greater  part  of  its  branches.  Instances  are  needless 
where  nearly  all  the  appellations  are  faulty.  The 
term  ' Metaphysics  affords  a  specimen  of  all  the 
faults  which  the  name  of  a  science  can  combine.  To 
those  who  know  only  their  own  language,  it  must,  at 
their  entrance  on  the  study,  convey  no  meaning.  It 
points  their  attention  to  nothing.  If  they  examine  the 


4 


INTRODUCTION. 


language  in  which  its  parts  are  significant,  they  will  be 
misled  into  the  pernicious  error  of  believing  that  it  seeks 
something  more  than  the  interpretation  of  nature.  It 
is  only  by  examining  the  history  of  ancient  philosophy 
that  the  probable  origin  of  this  name  will  be  found,  in 
the  application  of  it,  as  the  running  title  of  several  essays 
of  Aristotle,  which  were  placed  in  a  collection  of  the 
manuscripts  of  that  great  philosopher,  after  his  treatise 
on  Physics.  It  has  the  greater  fault  of  an  unsteady  and 
fluctuating  signification;  denoting  one  class  of  objects  in 
the  seventeenth  century,  and  another  in  the  eighteenth 
— even  in  the  ninteenth  not  quite  of  the  same  import  in 
the  mouth  of  a  German,  as  in  that  of  a  French  or  English 
philosopher;  to  say  nothing  of  the  farther  objection  that 
it  continues  to  be  a  badge  of  undue  pretension  among 
some  of  the  followers  of  the  science,  while  it  has  become 
a  name  of  reproach  and  derision  among  those  who  alto¬ 
gether  decry  it. 

The  modern  name  of  the  very  modern  science  called 
Political  Economy ,  though  deliberately  bestowed  on  it 
by  its  most  eminent  teachers,  is  perhaps  a  still  more  nota¬ 
ble  sample  of  the  like  faults.  It  might  lead  the  ignorant 
to  confine  it  to  retrenchment  in  national  expenditure; 
and  a  consideration  of  its  etymology  alone  would  lead  into 
the  more  mischievous  error  of  believing  it  to  teach,  that 
national  wealth  is  best  promoted  by  the  contrivance  and 
interference  of  lawgivers,  in  opposition  to  its  surest  doc¬ 
trine,  which  it  most  justly  boasts  of  having  discovered 
and  enforced. 

It  is  easy  to  conceive  an  exhaustive  analysis  of  Human 
Knowledge,  and  a  consequent  division  of  it  into  parts 
corresponding  to  all  the  classes  of  objects  to  which  it 
relates: — a  representation  of  that  vast  edifice,  contain¬ 
ing  a  picture  of  what  is  finished,  a  sketch  of  what  is 
building,  and  even  a  conjectural  outline  of  what,  though 
required  by  completeness  and  convenience,  as  well  as 


INTRODUCTION. 


5 


symmetry,  is  yet  altogether  untouched.  A  system  of 
names  might  also  be  imagined  derived  from  a  few  roots, 
indicating  the  objects  of  each  part,  and  showing  the 
relation  of  the  parts  to  each  other.  An  order  and  a 
language  somewhat  resembling  those  by  which  the  ob¬ 
jects  of  the  sciences  of  Botany  and  Chemistry  have,  in 
the  eighteenth  century,  been  arranged  and  denoted,  are 
doubtless  capable  of  application  to  the  sciences  generally, 
when  considered  as  parts  of  the  system  of  knowledge. 
The  attempts,  however,  which  have  hitherto  been  made 
to  accomplish  the  analytical  division  of  knowledge  which 
must  necessarily  precede  a  new  nomenclature  of  the 
sciences,  have  required  so  prodigious  a  superiority  of 
genius  in  the  single  instance  of  approach  to  success  by 
Bacon,  as  to  discourage  rivalship  nearly  as  much  as  the 
frequent  examples  of  failure  in  subsequent  times.  The 
nomenlature  itself  is  attended  with  great  difficulties,  not 
indeed  in  its  conception,  but  in  its  adoption  and  useful¬ 
ness.  In  the  Continental  languages  to  the  south  of  the 
Rhine,  the  practice  of  deriving  the  names  of  science 
from  Greek  must  be  continued;  which  would  render  the 
new  names  for  a  while  unintelligible  to  the  majority  of 
men.  Even  in  Germany,  where  a  flexible  and  fertile 
language  affords  unbounded  liberty  of  derivation  and 
composition  from  native  roots  or  elements,  and  where 
the  newly  derived  and  compounded  words  would  thus  be 
as  clear  to  the  mind,  and  almost  as  little  startling  to  the 
ear  of  every  man,  as  the  oldest  terms  in  the  language, 
yet  the  whole  nomenclature  would  be  unintelligible  to 
other  nations.  The  intercommunity  of  the  technical 
terms  of  science  in  Europe  has  been  so  far  broken  down 
by  the  Germans,  and  the  influence  of  their  literature  and 
philosophy  is  so  rapidly  increasing  in  the  greater  part 
of  the  Continent,  that  though  a  revolution  in  scientific 
nomenclature  be  probably  yet  far  distant,  the  foundation 
of  it  may  be  considered  as  already  prepared. 


6 


INTRODUCTION. 


But  although  so  great  an  undertaking  must  be  re¬ 
served  for  a  second  Bacon  and  a  future  generation,  it  is 
necessary  for  the  historian  of  any  branch  of  knowledge 
to  introduce  his  work  by  some  account  of  the  limits  and 
contents  of  the  sciences  of  which  he  is  about  to  trace  the 
progress;  and  though  it  will  be  found  impossible  to  trace 
throughout  the  treatise  a  distinct  line  of  demarcation, 
yet  a  general  and  imperfect  sketch  of  the  boundaries  of 
the  whole,  and  of  the  parts  of  our  present  subject,  may 
be  a  considerable  help  to  the  reader,  as  it  has  been  a 
useful  guide  to  the  writer. 

There  is  no  distribution  of  the  parts  of  knowledge 
more  ancient  than  that  of  the  Physical  and  Moral  Sci¬ 
ences,  which  seems  liable  to  no  other  objection,  than  that 
it  does  not  exhaust  the  subject.  Even  this  division, 
however,  cannot  be  safely  employed,  without  warning 
the  reader,  that  no  science  is  entirely  insulated,  and  that 
the  principles  of  one  are  often  only  the  conclusions  and 
results  of  another.  Every  branch  of  knowledge  has  its 
root  in  the  theory  of  the  understanding,  from  which 
even  the  mathematician  must  learn  what  can  be  known 
of  his  magnitude  and  his  numbers;  and  Moral  Science  is 
founded  on  that  other  hitherto  unnamed  part  of  philoso¬ 
phy  of  human  nature  (to  be  constantly  and  vigilantly  dis¬ 
tinguished  from  Intellectual  Philosophy),  which  contem¬ 
plates  the  laws  of  sensibility,  of  emotion,  of  desire  and 
aversion,  of  pleasure  and  pain,  of  happiness  and  misery; 
and  on  which  arise  the  august  and  sacred  landmarks  that 
stand  conspicuous  along  the  frontier  between  right  and 
wrong. 

But  however  multiplied  the  connexions  of  the  Moral 
and  Physical  Sciences  are,  it  is  not  difficult  to  draw  a 
general  distinction  between  them.  The  purpose  of  the 
Physical  Sciences  throughout  all  their  provinces,  is  to 
answer  the  question  IVhat  is?  They  consist  only  of 
facts  arranged  according  to  their  likeness,  and  expressed 


INTRODUCTION. 


7 


by  general  names  given  to  every  class  of  similar  facts. 
The  purpose  of  the  Moral  Sciences  is  to  answer  the 
question  What  ought  to  be?  They  aim  at  ascertaining 
the  rules  which  ought  to  govern  voluntary  action,  and 
to  which  those  habitual  dispositions  of  mind  which  are 
the  source  of  voluntary  actions  ought  to  be  adapted. 

It  is  obvious  that  will,  action ,  habit ,  disposition , 
are  terms  denoting  facts  in  human  nature,  and  that  an 
explanation  of  them  must  be  sought  in  Mental  Philoso¬ 
phy;  which,  if  knowledge  be  divided  into  Physical  and 
Mora],  must  be  placed  among  physical  sciences;  though 
it  essentially  differs  from  all  in  having  for  its  chief 

object  those  laws  of  thought  which  alone  render  any 
other  sort  of  knowledge  possible.  But  it  is  equally  cer¬ 
tain  that  the  word  ought  introduces  the  mind  into  a 
new  region,  to  which  nothing  physical  corresponds. 
However  philosophers  may  deal  with  this  most  import¬ 
ant  of  words,  it  is  instantly  understood  by  all  who  do  not 
attempt  to  define  it.  No  civilized  speech,  perhaps  no 
human  language,  is  without  correspondent  terms.  It 
would  be  as  reasonable  to  deny  that  space  and  green¬ 
ness  are  significant  words,  as  to  affirm  that  ought ,  right , 
duty ,  virtue ,  are  sounds  without  meaning.  It  would 
be  fatal  to  an  Ethical  Theory  that  it  did  not  explain 
them,  and  that  it  did  not  comprehend  all  the  conceptions 
and  emotions  which  they  call  up.  There  never  yet  was 
a  theory  which  did  not  attempt  such  an  explanation. 


. 

* 


* 


V  *  -  *• 

■'  * 

♦  *. 


V 


SECTION  I. 


Preliminary  Observations . 

There  is  no  man  who,  in  a  case  where  he  was  a  calm 
by-stander,  would  not  look  with  more  satisfaction  on  acts 
of  kindness  than  on  acts  of  cruelty.  No  man,  after  the 
first  excitement  of  his  mind  has  subsided,  ever  whisper¬ 
ed  to  himself  with  self-approbation  and  secret  joy  that  he 
had  been  guilty  of  cruelty  or  baseness.  Every  criminal 
is  strongly  impelled  to  hide  these  qualities  of  his  actions 
from  himself,  as  he  would  do  from  others,  by  clothing 
his  conduct  in  some  disguise  of  duty  or  of  necessity. 
There  is  no  tribe  so  rude  as  to  be  without  a  faint  per¬ 
ception  of  a  difference  between  right  and  wrong.  There 
is  no  subject  on  which  men  of  all  ages  and  nations  coin¬ 
cide  in  so  many  points  as  in  the  general  rules  of  conduct, 
and  in  the  qualities  of  the  human  character  which  de¬ 
serve  esteem.  Even  the  grossest  deviations  from  the 
general  consent  will  appear,  on  close  examination,  to  be 
not  so.  much  corruptions  of  moral  feeling,  as  either  ig¬ 
norance  of  facts ;  or  errors  with  respect  to  the  conse¬ 
quences  of  action  ;  or  cases  in  which  the  dissentient  party 
is  inconsistent  with  other  parts  of  his  own  principles, 
which  destroys  the  value  of  his  dissent;  or  where  each 
dissident  is  condemned  by  all  the  other  dissidents,  which 
immeasurably  augments  the  majority  against  him.  In 
the  first  three  cases  he  may  be  convinced  by  argument, 
that  his  moral  judgment  should  be  changed  on  principles 
which  he  recognises  as  just :  and  he  can  seldom,  if  ever, 
B 


10 


PROGRESS  OF 


be  condemned  at  the  same  time  by  the  body  of  mankind 
who  agree  in  their  moral  systems,  and  by  those  who  on 
some  other  points  dissent  from  that  general  code,  with¬ 
out  being  also  convicted  of  error  by  inconsistency  with 
himself.  The  tribes  who  expose  new-born  infants,  con¬ 
demn  those  who  abandon  their  decrepit  parents  to  de¬ 
struction.  Those  who  betray  and  murder  strangers,  are 
condemned  by  the  rules  of  faith  and  humanity  which 
they  acknowledge  in  their  intercourse  with  their  coun¬ 
trymen.  Mr  Hume,  in  a  dialogue  in  which  he  ingeni¬ 
ously  magnifies  the  moral  heresies  of  two  nations  so  po¬ 
lished  as  the  Athenians  and  the  French,  has  very  satis¬ 
factorily  resolved  his  own  difficulties.  66  In  how  many 
circumstances  would  an  Athenian  and  a  Frenchman  of 
merit  certainly  resemble  each  other? — Humanity,  fidel¬ 
ity,  truth,  justice,  courage,  temperance,  constancy,  dig¬ 
nity  of  mind.  The  principles  upon  which  men  reason 
in  morals  are  always  the  same,  though  their  conclusions 
are  often  very  different. He  might  have  added,  that 
almost  every  deviation  which  he  imputes  to  each  nation 
is  at  variance  with  some  of  the  virtues  justly  esteemed 
by  both;  and  that  the  reciprocal  condemnation  of  each 
other’s  errors  which  appears  in  his  statement  entitles  us 
on  these  points  to  strike  out  the  suffrages  of  both,  when 
collecting  the  general  judgment  of  mankind.  If  we 
bear  in  mind  that  the  question  relates  to  the  coincidence 
of  all  men  in  considering  the  same  qualities  as  virtues, 
and  not  to  the  preference  of  one  class  of  virtues  by  some 
and  of  a  different  class  by  others,  the  exceptions  from 
the  agreement  of  mankind,  in  their  system  of  practical 
morality,  will  be  reduced  to  absolute  insignificance  ;  and 
we  shall  learn  to  view  them  as  no  more  affecting  the 
harmony  of  our  moral  faculties,  than  the  resemblance  of 
the  limbs  and  features  is  affected  by  monstrous  conforma- 


*  Philosophical  Works,  Vol.  IV.  p.  420,  422-  Edinb.  1820- 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


11 


tions,  or  by  the  unfortunate  effects  of  accident  and  dis¬ 
ease  in  a  very  few  individuals.* 

It  is  very  remarkable,  however,  that  though  all  men 
agree  that  there  are  acts  which  ought  to  he  done,  and 
acts  which  ought  not  to  be  done;  though  the  far  greater 
part  of  mankind  agree  in  their  list  of  virtues  and  duties, 
of  vices  and  crimes;  and  though  the  whole  race,  as  it  ad¬ 
vances  in  other  improvements,  is  as  evidently  tending 
towards  the  moral  system  of  the  most  civilized  nations, 
as  children  in  their  growth  tend  to  the  opinions  as  much 
as  to  the  experience  and  strength  of  adults;  yet  there 
are  no  questions  in  the  circle  of  inquiry  to  which  an¬ 
swers  more  various  have  been  given  than — How  men 
have  thus  come  to  agree  in  the  rule  of  life  ;  Whence 
arises  their  general  reverence  for  it;  and  What  is  meant 
by  affirming  that  it  ought  to  be  inviolably  observed?  It 
is  singular,  that  where  we  are  most  nearly  agreed  re¬ 
specting  rules,  we  should  perhaps  most  differ  as  to  the 
causes  of  our  agreement,  and  as  to  the  reasons  which 
justify  us  for  adhering  to  it.  The  discussion  of  these 
subjects  composes  what  is  usually  called  the  Theory  of 
Morals ,  in  a  sense  not  in  all  respects  coincident  with 
what  is  usually  considered  as  theory  in  other  sciences. 
When  we  investigate  the  causes  of  our  moral  agreement, 


*  “  On  convient  le  plus  souvent  de  ces  instincts  de  la  conscience.  La  plus 
grande  et  la  plus  saine  partie  du  genre  humainleur  rend  temoignage.  Les 
Orientaux,  et  les  Grecs,  et  les  Romains  conviennent  en  cela;  et  il  faudroit  etre 
aussi  abruti  que  les  sauvages  Americains  pour  approuver  leurs  coutumes, 
pleines  d’une  cruaute  qui  passe  meme  celle  des  betes.  Cependant  ces  merries 
sauvages  sentent  Men  ce  que  c’est  que  la  justice  en  d’autres  occasions ;  et  quoique 
il  n’y  ait  point  de  mauvaise  pratique  peut-etre  qui  ne  soit  autorisee  quelque 
part,  il  y  en  a  peu  pourtant  qui  ne  soient  condamnees  le  plus  souvent,  et 
par  la  plus  grande  partie  des  hommes.”  (Leibnitz,  CEuvres  Philosophiques , 
p.  49.  Amst.  et  Leipz.  1765,  4to.) 

There  are  some  admirable  observations  on  this  subject  in  Hartley,  espe¬ 
cially  in  the  development  of  the  49th  Proposition.  “  The  rule  of  life  drawn 
from  the  practice  and  opinions  of  mankind  corrects  and  improves  itself  perpetu¬ 
ally,  till  at  last  it  determines  entirely  for  virtue ,  and  excludes  all  kinds  and  de¬ 
grees  of  vice.”  ( Observations  on  Man,  I.  207). 


12 


PROGRESS  OF 


the  term  Theory  retains  its  ordinary  scientific  sense ; 
but  when  we  endeavour  to  ascertain  the  reasons  of  it, 
we  rather  employ  the  term  as  importing  the  theory  of 
the  rules  of  an  art.  In  the  first  case,  Theory  denotes, 
as  usual,  the  most  general  laws  to  which  certain  facts  can 
be  reduced;  whereas  in  the  second,  it  points  out  the 
efficacy  of  the  observance,  in  practice,  of  certain  rules, 
for  producing  the  effects  intended  to  be  produced  in 
the  art.  These  reasons  also  may  be  reduced  under  the 
general  sense  by  stating  the  question  relating  to  them 
thus: — What  are  the  causes  why  the  observance  of  cer¬ 
tain  rules  enables  us  to  execute  certain  purposes?  An 
account  of  the  various  answers  attempted  to  be  made  to 
these  inquiries,  properly  forms  the  History  of  Ethics. 

The  attentive  reader  may  already  perceive,  that  these 
momentous  inquiries  relate  to  at  least  two  perfectly  dis¬ 
tinct  subjects:  1.  The  nature  of  the  distinction  between 
right  and  wrong  in  human  conduct,  and,  2.  The  nature 
of  those  feelings  with  which  right  and  wrong  are  contem¬ 
plated  by  human  beings.  The  latter  constitutes  what 
has  been  called  the  Theory  of  Moral  Sentiments;  the 
former  consists  in  an  investigation  into  the  Criterion  of 
Morality  in  action.  Other  most  important  questions  arise 
in  this  province.  But  the  two  problems  which  have 
been  just  stated,  and  the  essential  distinction  between 
them,  must  be  clearly  apprehended  by  all  who  are  de¬ 
sirous  of  understanding  the  controversies  which  have 
prevailed  on  ethical  subjects.  The  discrimination  has 
seldom  been  made  by  moral  philosophers;  the  difference 
between  the  two  problems  has  never  been  uniformly  ob¬ 
served  by  any  of  them:  and  it  will  appear,  in  the  sequel, 
that  they  have  been  not  rarely  altogether  confounded  by 
very  eminent  men,  to  the  destruction  of  all  just  concep¬ 
tion  and  of  all  correct  reasoning  in  this  moct  important, 
and  perhaps  most  difficult  of  sciences. 

It  may  therefore  be  allowable  to  deviate  so  far  from 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


13^ 


historical  order,  as  to  illustrate  the  nature  and  to  prove 
the  importance  of  the  distinction,  by  an  example  of  the 
effects  of  neglecting  it,  taken  from  the  recent  works  of 
justly  celebrated  writers;  in  which  they  discuss  questions 
much  agitated  in  the  present  age,  and  therefore  probably 
now  familiar  to  most  readers  of  this  dissertation. 

Dr  Paley  represents  the  principle  of  a  moral  sense  as 
being  opposed  to  that  of  utility.*  Now,  it  is  evident 
that  this  representation  is  founded  on  a  confusion  of  the 
two  questions  which  have  been  stated  above.  That  we 
are  endued  with  a  moral  sense,  or,  in  other  words,  a 
faculty  which  immediately  approves  what  is  right  and 
condemns  what  is  wrong,  is  only  a  statement  of  the  feel¬ 
ings  with  which  we  contemplate  actions.  But  to  affirm 
that  right  actions  are  those  which  conduce  to  the  well¬ 
being  of  mankind,  is  a  proposition  concerning  the  out¬ 
ward  effects  by  which  right  actions  themselves  may  be 
recognised.  As  these  affirmations  relate  to  different 
subjects,  they  cannot  be  opposed  to  each  other,  any 
more  than  the  solidity  of  earth  is  inconsistent  with  the 
fluidity  of  water;  and  a  very  little  reflection  will  show  it 
to  be  easily  conceivable  that  they  may  be  both  true. 
Man  may  be  so  constituted  as  instantaneously  to  approve 
certain  actions  without  any  reference  to  their  consequen¬ 
ces  ;  and  yet  reason  may  nevertheless  discover,  that  a 
tendency  to  produce  general  happiness  is  the  essential 
characteristic  of  such  actions.  Mr  Bentham  also  con¬ 
trasts  the  principle  of  utility  with  that  of  sympathy,  of 
which  he  considers  the  moral  sense  of  being  one  of  the  ; 
forms. t  It  is  needless  to  repeat,  that  propositions 

which  affirm  or  deny  any  thing  as  different  subjects,  can¬ 
not  contradict  each  other.  As  these  celebrated  persons 
have  thus  inferred  or  implied  the  non-existence  of  a 
>  * 

*  Principles  of  Moral  a7id  Political  Philosophy .  Compare  book  I.  chap, 
v.  with  book  ii.  chap.  vi. 

f  Introduction  to  the  Principles  of  Morality  and  Legislation ,  chap.  ii. 


14 


PROGRESS  OF 


moral  sense,  from  their  opinion  that  the  morality  of  ac¬ 
tions  depends  upon  their  usefulness,  so  other  philoso¬ 
phers  of  equal  name  have  concluded,  that  the  utility  of 
actions  cannot  be  the  criterion  of  their  morality,  because 
perception  of  that  utility  appears  to  them  to  form  a  faint 
and  inconsiderable  part  of  our  moral  sentiments,  if  in¬ 
deed  it  be  at  all  discoverable  in  them.*  These  errors 
are  the  more  remarkable,  because  the  like  confusion  of 
perceptions  with  their  objects,  of  emotions  with  their 
causes,  or  even  the  omission  to  mark  the  distinctions, 
would,  in  every  other  subject,  be  felt  to  be  a  most  seri¬ 
ous  fault  in  philosophizing.  If,  for  instance,  an  element 
were  discovered  to  be  common  to  all  bodies  which  our 
taste  perceives  to  be  sweet,  and  to  be  found  in  no  other 
bodies,  it  is  apparent  that  this  discovery,  perhaps  im¬ 
portant  in  other  respects,  would  neither  affect  our  per¬ 
ception  of  sweetness,  nor  the  pleasure  which  attends  it. 
Both  would  continue  to  be  what  they  have  been  since 
the  existence  of  mankind.  Every  proposition  concern¬ 
ing  that  element  would  relate  to  sweet  bodies,  and  be¬ 
long  to  the  science  of  Chemistry;  while  every  proposi¬ 
tion  respecting  the  perception  or  pleasure  of  sweetness 
would  relate  either  to  the  body  or  mind  of  man,  and  ac¬ 
cordingly  belong  either  to  the  science  of  Physiology,  or 
to  that  of  Mental  Philosophy.  During  the  many  ages 
which  passed  before  the  analysis  of  the  sun’s  beams  had 
proved  them  to  be  compounded  of  different  colours, 
white  objects  were  seen,  and  their  whiteness  was  some¬ 
times  felt  to  be  beautiful,  in  the  very  same  manner  as  since 
that  discovery.  The  qualities  of  light  are  the  object 
of  Optics;  the  nature  of  beauty  can  be  ascertained  only 
by  each  man's  observation  of  his  own  mind;  the  changes 


*  Smith’s  Theory  of  Moral  Sentiments,  Part  iv.  Even  Hume,  in  the 
third  book  of  his  Treatise  of  Human  Nature,  the  most  precise,  perhaps,  of 
his  philosophical  writings,  uses  the  following  as  the  title  of  one  of  the  sec¬ 
tions:  “  Moral  Distinctions  derived  from  a  Moral  Sense.” 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


15 


in  the  living  frame  which  succeed  the  refraction  of  light 
in  the  eye,  and  precede  mental  operation,  will,  if  they 
are  ever  to  be  known  by  man,  constitute  a  part  of 
Physiology.  But  no  proposition  relating  to  one  of  these 
orders  of  phenomena  can  contradict  or  support  a  pro¬ 
position  concerning  another  order. 

The  analogy  of  this  latter  case  will  justify  another 
preliminary  observation.  In  the  case  of  the  pleasure 
derived  from  beauty,  the  question  whether  that  pleasure 
be  original  or  derived,  is  of  secondary  importance.  It 
has  been  often  observed  that  the  same'properties  which 
are  admired  as  beautiful  in  the  horse,  contribute  also  to 
his  safety  and  speed  ;  and  they  who  infer  that  the  admi¬ 
ration  of  beauty  was  originally  founded  on  the  conve¬ 
nience  of  fleetness  and  firmness,  if  they  at  the  same  time 
hold  that  the  usefulness  is  gradually  effaced,  and  that 
the  admiration  of  a  certain  shape  at  length  rises  instan¬ 
taneously  without  reference  to  any  purpose,  may,  with 
perfect  consistency,  regard  a  sense  of  beauty  as  an  inde¬ 
pendent  and  universal  principle  of  human  nature.  The 
laws  of  such  a  feeling  of  beauty  are  discoverable  only  by 
self  observation.  Those  of  the  qualities  which  call  it 
forth  are  ascertained  by  examination  of  the  outward  things 
which  are  called  beautiful/  But  it  is  of  the  utmost  im¬ 
portance  to  bear  in  mind,  that  he  who  contemplates  the 
beautiful  proportions  of  a  horse,  as  the  signs  and  proofs 
of  security  or  quickness,  and  has  in  view  these  conve¬ 
nient  qualities,  is  properly  said  to  prefer  the  horse  for 
his  usefulness,  not  for  his  beauty  ;  though  he  may  chose 
him  from  the  same  outward  appearance  which  pleases 
the  admirer  of  the  beautiful  animal.  He  alone  who  de¬ 
rives  immediate  pleasure  from  the  appearance  itself, 
without  reflection  on  any  advantages  which  it  may  promise, 
is  truly  said  to  feel  the  beauty.  The  distinction,  however, 
manifestly  depends,  not  on  the  origin  of  the  emotion,  but 
on  its  object  and  nature  when  completely  formed.  Many 


16 


PROGRESS  OF 


of  our  most  important  perceptions  through  the  eye  are 
universally  acknowledged  to  be  acquired.  But  they  are 
as  general  as  the  original  perceptions  of  that  organ  ; 
they  arise  as  independently  of  our  will,  and  human  na¬ 
ture  would  be  quite  as  imperfect  without  them.  An 
adult  who  did  not  immediately  see  the  different  distances 
of  objects  from  his  eye,  would  be  thought  by  every  one  to 
be  as  great  a  deviation  from  the  ordinary  state  of  man  as 
if  he  were  incapable  of  distinguishing  the  brightest  sun¬ 
shine  from  the  darkest  midnight.  Acquired  perceptions 
and  sentiments  may  therefore  be  termed  natural,  as  mueh 
as  those  which  are  more  commonly  so  called,  if  they  be 
as  rarely  found  wanting.  Ethical  theories  can  never  be 
satisfactorily  discussed  by  those  who  do  not  constantly 
bear  in  mind,  that  the  question  concerning  the  existence 
of  a  moral  faculty  in  man  which  immediately  approves 
or  disapproves  without  reference  to  any  further  object, 
is  perfectly  distinct,  on  the  one  hand,  from  that  which 
inquires  into  the  qualities  thus  approved  or  disapproved  ; 
and  on  the  other,  from  an  inquiry  whether  that  faculty 
be  derived  from  other  parts  of  our  mental  frame,  or  be 
itself  one  of  the  ultimate  constituent  principles  of  human 
nature. 


SECTION  II. 


Retrospect  of  Ancient  Ethics. 

Inquiries  concerning  the  nature  of  mind,  the  first 
principles  of  knowledge,  the  origin  and  government  of 
the  world,  appear  to  have  been  among  the  earliest  objects 
which  employed  the  understanding  of  civilized  men. 
Fragments  of  such  speculation  are  handed  down  from 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


17 


the  legendary  age  of  Greek  philosophy.  In  the  remain¬ 
ing  monuments  of  that  more  ancient  form  of  civilization 
which  sprung  up  in  Asia,  we  see  clearly  that  the  Bra- 
minical  philosophers,  in  times  perhaps  before  the  dawn  of 
western  history,  had  run  round  that  dark  and  little  circle 
of  systems  which  an  unquenchable  thirst  of  knowledge 
has  since  urged  both  the  speculators  of  ancient  Greece 
and  those  of  Christendom  to  retrace.  The  wall  of  ada¬ 
mant  which  bounds  human  inquiry  has  scarcely  ever 
been  discovered  by  any  adventurer,  until  he  was  roused 
by  the  shock  which  drove  him  back.  It  is  otherwise 
with  the  theory  of  morals.  No  controversy  seems  to 
have  arisen  regarding  it  in  Greece,  till  the  rise  and  con¬ 
flict  of  the  Stoical  and  Epicurean  schools  ;  and  the  ethi¬ 
cal  disputes  of  the  modern  world  originated  with  the 
writings  of  Hobbes  about  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  Perhaps  the  longer  abstinence  from  debate 
on  this  subject  may  have  sprung  from  reverence  for  mo¬ 
rality.  Perhaps  also,  where  the  world  were  unanimous 
in  their  practical  opinions,  little  need  was  felt  of  exact 
theory.  The  teachers  of  morals  were  content  with  par¬ 
tial  or  secondary  principles,  with  the  combination  of 
principles  not  always  reconcilable,  even  with  vague  but 
specious  phrases  which  in  any  degree  explained  or  seem¬ 
ed  to  explain  the  rules  of  the  art  of  life — which  seemed 
at  once  too  evident  to  need  investigation,  and  too  venera¬ 
ble  to  be  approached  by  controversy. 

Perhaps  the  subtile  genius  of  Greece  was  in  part 
withheld  from  indulging  itself  in  ethical  controversy  by 
the  influence  of  Socrates,  who  was  much  more  a  teacher 
of  virtue  than  even  a  searcher  after  truth — 

Whom,  well  inspired,  the  oracle  pronounced 

Wisest  of  men. 

It  was  doubtless  because  he  chose  that  better  part  that 
he  was  thus  spoken  of  by  the  man  whose  commendation 
C 


18 


PROGRESS  OF 


is  glory,  and  who,  from  the  loftiest  eminence  of  moral  ge¬ 
nius  ever  reached  by  a  mortal,  was  perhaps  alone  wor¬ 
thy  to  place  a  new  crown  on  the  brow  of  the  martyr  of 
virtue. 

Aristippus  indeed,  a  wit  and  a  worldling,  borrowed 
nothing  from  the  conversations  of  Socrates  but  a  few  max¬ 
ims  for  husbanding  the  enjoyments  of  sense.  Antisthenes 
also,  a  hearer  but  not  a  follower,  founded  a  school  of  pa¬ 
rade  and  exaggeration,  which  caused  his  master  to  dis¬ 
own  him  by  the  ingenious  rebuke,  66 1  see  your  vanity 
through  your  threadbare  cloak.77*  The  modest  doubts 
of  the  most  sober  of  moralists,  and  his  indisposition  to  fruit¬ 
less  abstractions,  were  in  process  of  time  employed  as  the 
foundation  of  systematic  scepticism  ;  the  most  presump¬ 
tuous,  inapplicable,  and  inconsistent  of  all  the  results 
of  human  meditation.  But  though  his  lessons  were  thus 
distorted  by  the  perverse  ingenuity  of  some  who  heard 
him,  the  authority  of  his  practical  sense  may  be  traced 
in  the  moral  writings  of  those  most  celebrated  philosophers 
who  were  directly  or  indirectly  his  disciples.  Plato,  the 
most  famous  of  his  scholars,  the  most  eloquent  of  Gre¬ 
cian  writers,  and  the  earliest  moral  philosopher  whose 
writings  have  come  down  to  us,  employed  his  genius 
in  the  composition  of  dialogues,  in  which  his  master  per¬ 
formed  the  principal  part.  These  beautiful  conversa¬ 
tions  would  have  lost  their  charm  of  verisimilitude,  of 
dramatic  vivacity,  of  picturesque  representation  of  char¬ 
acter,  if  they  had  been  subjected  to  the  constraint  of 
method.  They  necessarily  presuppose  much  oral  in¬ 
struction.  They  frequently  quote,  and  doubtless  of- 
tener  allude  to  the  opinions  of  predecessors  and  con¬ 
temporaries  whose  works  have  perished,  and  of  whose 
doctrines  only  some  fragments  are  preserved. 

In  these  circumstances,  it  must  be  difficult  for  the  most 


*  dioo.  laert.  vi.  vElian.  ix.  35. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


19 


learned  and  philosophical  of  his  commentators  to  give  a 
just  representation  of  his  doctrines,  if  he  really  framed 
or  adopted  a  system.  The  moral  part  of  his  works  is 
more  accessible.*  The  vein  of  thought  which  runs 
through  them  is  always  visible.  The  object  is  to  inspire 
the  love  of  truth,  of  wisdom,  of  beauty,  especially  of 
goodness,  the  highest  beauty,  and  of  that  supreme  and 
eternal  mind,  which  contains  all  truth  and  wisdom,  all 
beauty  and  goodness.  By  the  love  or  delightful  con¬ 
templation  and  pursuit  of  these  transcendant  aims  for 
their  own  sake  only,  he  represented  the  mind  of  man  as 
raised  from  low  and  perishable  objects,  and  prepared 
for  those  high  destinies  which  are  appointed  for  all  those 
who  are  capable  of  them. 

The  application  to  moral  qualities  of  terms  which  de¬ 
note  outward  beauty,  though  by  him  perhaps  carried  to 
excess,  is  an  illustrative  metaphor,  as  well  warranted  by 
the  poverty  of  language  as  any  other  employed  to  signi¬ 
fy  the  acts  or  attributes  of  mind. f  The  beautiful  in  his 
language  denoted  all  that  of  which  the  mere  contemplation 
is  in  itself  delightful,  without  any  admixture  of  organic 
pleasure,  and  without  being  regarded  as  the  means  of 
attaining  any  farther  end.  The  feeling  which  belongs 
to  it  he  called  love ;  a  word  which,  as  comprehending 
complacency,  benevolence,  and  affection,  and  reaching 

*  Heusde,  Initia  Philosoph.  Plat.  1827  ;  a  hitherto  incomplete  work  of 
great  perspicuity  and  elegance,  in  which  we  must  excuse  the  partiality 
which  belongs  to  a  labour  of  love. 

■j-  The  most  probable  etymology  of  ka\o(  seems  to  be  from  to  burn. 
What  burns  commonly  shines.  Schott ,  in  German,  which  means  beautiful, 
is  derived  from  scheinen,  to  shine.  The  word  nctxoc  was  used  for  right,  so 
early  as  the  Homeric  Poems.  II.  xvii-  19.  In  the  philosophical  age  it  be- 
,  came  a  technical  term,  with  little  other  remains  of  the  metaphorical  sense 
than  what  the  genius  and  art  of  a  fine  writer  might  sometimes  rekindle. 
Hoiiestum,  the  term  by  which  Cicero  translates  the  icctxov,  being  derived 
from  outward  honours,  is  a  less  happy  metaphor.  In  our  language,  the 
terms  being  from  foreign  roots,  contribute  nothing  to  illustrate  the  progress 
of  thought. 


20 


PROGRESS  OP 


from  the  neighbourhood  of  the  senses  to  the  most  sub¬ 
lime  of  human  thoughts,  is  foreign  from  the  colder  and 
more  exact  language  of  our  philosophy  ;  but  which  per¬ 
haps  then  happily  served  to  lure  both  the  lovers  of  poetry 
and  the  votaries  of  superstition  to  the  school  of  truth  and 
goodness  in  the  groves  of  the  academy.  He  enforced  these 
lessons  by  an  inexhaustable  variety  of  just  and  beautiful  il¬ 
lustrations, — sometimes  striking  from  their  familiarity, 
sometimes  subduing  by  their  grandeur  ;  and  his  works 
are  the  storehouse  from  which  moralists  have  from  age 
to  age  borrowed  the  means  of  rendering  moral  instruc¬ 
tion  easier  and  more  delightful.  Virtue  he  represented 
as  the  harmony  of  the  whole  soul  ; — as  a  peace  between 
all  its  principles  and  desires,  assigning  to  each  as  much 
space  as  they  can  occupy,  without  encroaching  on  each 
other; — as  a  state  of  perfect  health,  in  which  every  func¬ 
tion  was  performed  with  ease,  pleasure,  and  vigour  ; — as  a 
well-ordered  commonwealth,  where  the  obedient  pas¬ 
sions  executed  with  energy  the  laws  and  commands  of 
reason.  The  vicious  mind  presented  the  odious  charac¬ 
ter,  sometimes  of  discord,  of  war  ;  sometimes  of  disease  ; 
always  of  passions  warring  with  each  other  in  eternal 
anarchy.  Consistent  with  himself,  and  at  peace  with  his 
fellows,  the  good  man  felt  in  the  quiet  of  his  conscience  a 
foretaste  of  the  approbation  of  God.  “Oh  what  ardent 
love  would  virtue  inspire  if  she  could  be  seen.”  “  If 
the  heart  of  a  tyrant  could  be  laid  bare,  we  should  see 
how  it  was  cut  and  torn  by  its  own  evil  passions  and 
by  an  avenging  conscience.”* 

Perhaps  in  every  one  of  these  illustrations,  an  eye 
trained  in  the  history  of  Ethics  may  discover  the  germ 

*  Let  it  not  be  forgotten,  that  for  this  terrible  description,  Socrates,  to 
whom  it  is  ascribed  by  Plato  {De  Rep.  ix.)  is  called  “  Praestantissimus  sapien- 
tise ,”  by  a  writer  of  the  most  masculine  understanding,  the  least  subject  to 
be  transported  by  enthusiasm.  (Tac.  Ann.  vi.  6.)  “  Quae  vulnera  /”  says 

Cicero,  in  alluding  to  the  same  passage.  ( De  OJficiis,  in-  21  •) 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


21 


of  the  whole  or  of  a  part  of  some  subsequent  theory. 
But'  to  examine  it- thus  would  not  be  to  look  at  it  with  the 
eye  of  Plato.  His  aim  was  as  practical  as  that  of  Socrates. 
He  employed  every  topic,  without  regard  to  its  place  in 
a  system,  or  even  always  to  its  force  as  argument,  which 
could  attract  the  small  portion  of  the  community  then 
accessible  to  cultivation  ;  who,  it  should  not  be  forgotten, 
had  no  moral  instructor  but  the  philosopher,  unaided, 
if  not  thwarted,  by  the  reigning  superstition  ;  for  reli¬ 
gion  had  not  then,  besides  her  own  discoveries,  brought 
down  the  most  awful  and  the  most  beautiful  forms  of 
moral  truth  to  the  humblest  station  in  human  society.* 
Ethics  retained  her  sober  spirit  in  the  hands  of  his 
great  scholar  and  rival  Aristotle,  who,  though  he  cer¬ 
tainly  surpassed  all  men  in  acute  distinction,  in  subtile 
argument,  in  severe  method,  in  the  power  of  analyzing 
what  is  most  compounded,  and  of  reducing  to  simple 
principles  the  most  various  and  unlike  appearances,  yet 
appears  to  be  still  more  raised  above  his  fellows  by  the 
prodigious  faculty  of  laying  aside  these  extraordinary 
endowments  whenever  his  present  purpose  required  it ; 
as  in  his  History  of  Animals,  in  his  Treatises  on  Philoso¬ 
phical  Criticism,  and  in  his  Practical  Writings,  political 
as  well  as  moral.  Contrasted  as  his  genius  was  to  that 
of  Plato,  not  only  by  its  logical  and  metaphysical  attri¬ 
butes,  but  by  the  regard  to  experience  and  observation  of 

*  There  can  hardly  be  a  finer  example  of  Plato’s  practical  morals  than 
his  observations  on  the  treatment  of  slaves.  Genuine  humanity  and  real 
probity,  says  he,  are  brought  to  the  test,  by  the  behaviour  of  a  man  to  slaves, 
whom  he  may  wrong  with  impunity.  AiaJuv.og  o  qvtrti  kcu  /u»  7rxcta-ra>g 
trtficev  txv  J'noiv,  /jucrav  £t  ovt®?  to  cl&ix ov  tv  tovtok  Tali'  a.vS^a>vreev  tv  cig  a.rj'viti 
pacT/ov  c/Jauiv.  (Plato  de  Legibus,  lib.  vi.  edit.  Bipont.  VIII.  303.) 

That  Plato  was  considered  as  the  fountain  of  ancient  morals,  would  be 
sufficiently  evident  from  Cicero  alone.  “  Ex  hoc  igitur  Platonis,  quasi 
quodam  sancto  augustoque  fonte,  nostra  omnis  manabit  oratio.”  ( Tusc . 
Qxst.  v.  13.)  Perhaps  the  sober  Quintilian  meant  to  mingle  some  cen¬ 
sure  with  the  highest  praise:  “ Plato,  qui  eloquendi  facultate  divina  qua- 
dam  etHomerica,  multum  supra  prosam  orationem  surgit.”  {List.  Or  at.  x.  1.) 


22 


PROGRESS  OF 


nature  which,  in  him  perhaps  alone,  accompanied  them; 
— though  they  may  be  considered  as  the  original  repre¬ 
sentatives  of  the  two  antagonist  tendencies  of  philosophy 
— that  which  would  ennoble  man,  and  that  which  seeks 
rather  to  explain  nature ;  yet  opposite  as  they  are  in 
other  respects,  the  master  and  the  scholar  combine  to 
guard  the  Rule  of  Life  against  the  licentious  eruptions  of 
the  Sophists. 

4  In  Ethics  alone  their  systems  differed  more  in  words 
than  in  things.*  That  happiness  consisted  in  virtuous 
pleasure,  chiefly  dependent  on  the  state  of  mind,  but 
not  unaffected  by  outward  agents,  was  the  doctrine  of 
both.  Both  would  with  Socrates  have  called  happi¬ 
ness  c;  unrepented  pleasure.”  Neither  distinguished 
the  two  elements  which  they  represented  as  constituting 
the  supreme  good  from  each  other  ;  partly,  perhaps,  from 
a  fear  of  appearing  to  separate  them.  Plato  more  habitu¬ 
ally  considered  happiness  as  the  natural  fruit  of  virtue ; 
Aristotle  oftener  viewed  virtue  as  the  means  of  attaining 
happiness.  The  celebrated  doctrine  of  the  peripatetics, 
which  placed  all  virtues  in  a  medium  between  opposite 
vices,  was  probably  suggested  by  the  Platonic  represen¬ 
tation  of  its  necessity  to  keep  up  harmony  between  the 
different  parts  of  our  nature.  The  perfection  of  a  com¬ 
pound  machine  is  attained  where  all  its  parts  have  the 
fullest  scope  for  action.  Where  one  is  so  far  exerted  as  to 
repress  others,  there  is  a  vice  of  excess.  When  any  one 
has  less  activity  than  it  might  exert  without  disturbing 
others,  there  is  a  vice  of  defect.  The  point  which  all 
reach  without  collision  against  each  other,  is  the  medioc¬ 
rity  in  which  the  Peripatetics  placed  virtue. 

*  “  Una  et  consentiens  duobus  vocabulis  philosophise  forma  instituta  est, 
Academicorum  et  Peripateticorum;  qui  rebus  congruentes,  nominibus  diffe- 
rebant.”  (Cic  .Acad.  Qusest.  i.  4.)  BcuxsTan  (A^o-roTiKu;)  J'trroy  tivett  rov 
kuto.  <pi\o<ro<piatv  \oyoy  tov  /ucv  TrgotxT/xcv,  tov  & e  0(&>g»T/xoy.  xa u  tou  tt^uktiilou, 

TOV  T»  nfl/XOV  KCtl  7rO\lTIXCV‘  TOU  <f i  6  lU^HTIKOV  ,  Toy  Tl  (pOalKOV  KCtl  \0yiK0Y. 

(Diog.  Laeut.  v.  28.) 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


23 


It  was  not  till  near  a  century  after  the  death  of  Plato 
that  ethics  became  the  scene  of  philosophical  contest 
between  the  adverse  schools  of  Epicurus  and  Zeno ; 
whose  errors  afford  an  instructive  example,  that  in  the 
formation  of  theory,  partial  truth  is  equivalent  to  abso¬ 
lute  falsehood.  As  the  astronomer  who  left  either  the 
centripetal  or  the  centrifugal  force  of  the  planets  out  of  his 
view,  would  err  as  completely  as  he  who  excluded  both, 
so  the  Epicureans  and  Stoics,  who  each  confined  them¬ 
selves  to  real  but  not  exclusive  principles  in  morals,  de¬ 
parted  as  widely  from  the  truth  as  if  they  had  adopted 
no  part  of  it.  Every  partial  theory  is  indeed  directly 
false,  inasmuch  as  it  ascribes  to  one  or  few  causes  what 
is  produced  by  more.  As  the  extreme  opinions  of  one 
if  not  both  of  these  schools  have  been  often  revived  with 
variations  and  refinements  in  modern  times,  and  are  still 
not  without  influence  on  ethical  systems,  it  may  be  al¬ 
lowable  to  make  some  observations  on  this  earliest  of  mo¬ 
ral  controversies. 

“  All  other  virtues,”  said  Epicurus,  66  grow  from 
prudence,  which  teaches  that  we  cannot  live  pleasurably 
without  living  justly  and  virtuously,  nor  live  justly  and 
virtuously  without  living  pleasurably.”*  The  illus¬ 
tration  of  this  sentence  formed  the  whole  moral  discipline 
of  Epicurus.  To  him  we  owe  the  general  concurrence 
of  reflecting  men  in  succeeding  times,  in  the  important 
truth,  that  men  cannot  be  happy  without  a  virtuous  frame 
of  mind  and  course  of  life  ;  a  truth  of  inestimable  value, 
not  peculiar  to  the  Epicureans,  but  placed  by  their  ex¬ 
aggerations  in  a  stronger  light; — a  truth,  it  must  be  added, 
of  less  importance  as  a  motive  to  right  conduct  than  to 
the  completeness  of  Moral  Theory,  which,  however,  it 
is  very  far  from  solely  constituting.  With  that  truth  the 

*  Epic.  Epist.  ad  Menxc.  apud  Diog.  Laert.  lib.  x.  edit.  Leibom.  I.  658, 
659. 


24 


PROGRESS  OF 


Epicureans  blended  another  position,  which  indeed  is 
contained  in  the  first  word  of  the  above  statement ; 
namely,  that  because  virtue  promotes  happiness,  every 
act  of  virtue  must  be  done  in  order  to  promote  the  hap¬ 
piness  of  the  agent.  They  and  their  modern  followers 
tacitly  assume,  that  the  latter  position  is  the  consequence 
of  the  former  ;  as  if  it  were  an  inference  from  the  neces¬ 
sity  of  food  to  life,  that  the  fear  of  death  should  be  sub¬ 
stituted  for  the  appetite  of  hunger  as  a  motive  for  eating. 

“Friendship”  says  Epicurus,  “is  to  be  pursued  by 
the  wise  man  only  for  its  usefulness,  but  he  will  begin  as 
he  sows  the  field  in  order  to  reap.”*  It  is  obvious  that 
if  these  words  be  confined  to  outward  benefits,  they  may 
be  sometimes  true,  but  never  can  be  pertinent;  for  out¬ 
ward  acts  sometimes  show  kindness,  but  never  compose 
it.  If  they  be  applied  to  kind  feeling  they  would  in¬ 
deed  be  pertinent,  but  they  would  be  evidently  and  to¬ 
tally  false  ;  for  it  is  most  certain  that  no  man  acquires 
an  affection  merely  from  his  belief  that  it  would  be  agree¬ 
able  or  advantageous  to  feel  it.  Kindness  cannot  indeed 
be  pursued  on  accouut  of  the  pleasure  which  belongs  to 
it ;  for  man  can  no  more  know  the  pleasure  till  he  has 
felt  the  affection,  than  he  can  form  an  idea  of  colour 
without  the  sense  of  sight.  The  moral  character  of 
Epicurus  was  excellent ;  no  man  more  enjoyed  the  plea¬ 
sure  or  better  performed  the  duties  of  friendship.  The 
letter  of  his  system  was  no  more  indulgent  to  vice  than 
that  of  any  other  moralist. f  Although,  therefore^  he 
has  the  merit  of  having  more  strongly  inculcated  the  con- 

*  Thv  xv  Sta.  ‘rm  (Diog.  Laeut.  ibid.)  “  Hie  est  locus,”  Gas¬ 

sendi  confesses,  “  ob  quern  Epicurus  non  parum  vexatur,  quando  nemo 
non  reprehendit,  parari  amicitiam  non  sui,  sed  utilitatis  gratia.” 

t  It  is  due  to  him  to  observe,  that  lie  treated  humanity  towards  slaves  as 
one  of  the  characteristics  of  a  wise  man.  Oun  Ko\ct<rttv  outra.;,  «xof<r«/v  y.iv 
tot,  mu  0-vyyvu/unv  <r iyi  ra>v  (rTrovfctiw.  (Diog.  Laebt.  ibid.  653.)  It  is 
not  unworthy  of  remark,  that  neither  Plato  nor  Epicurus  thought  it  neces¬ 
sary  to  abstain  from  these  topics  in  a  city  full  of  slaves,  many  of  whom  were 
men  not  destitute  of  knowledge. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


25 


nexion  of  virtue  with  happiness,  perhaps  by  the  faulty 
excess  of  treating  it  as  an  exclusive  principle ;  yet  his 
doctrine  was  justly  charged  with  indisposing  the  mind 
to  those  exalted  and  generous  sentiments,  without  which 
no  pure,  elevated,  bold,  generous,  or  tender  virtues 
ean  exist.* 

As  Epicurus  represented  the  tendency  of  virtue, 
which  is  a  most  important  truth  in  ethical  theory,  as  the 
sole  inducement  to  virtuous  practice;  so  Zeno,  in  his 
disposition  towards  the  opposite  extreme,  was  inclined 
to  consider  the  moral  sentiments  which  are  the  motives 
of  right  conduct,  as  being  the  sole  principles  of  moral 
science.  The  confusion  was  equally  great  in  a  philoso¬ 
phical  view;  but  that  of  Epicurus  was  more  fatal  to  in¬ 
terests  of  higher  importance  than  those  of  philosophy. 
Had  the  Stoics  been  content  with  affirming  that  virtue 
is  the  source  of  all  that  part  of  our  happiness  which  de¬ 
pends  on  ourselves,  they  would  have  taken  a  position 
from  which  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  drive  them; 
they  would  have  laid  down  a  principle  of  as  great  com¬ 
prehension  in  practice  as  their  wider  pretensions;  a  sim¬ 
ple  and  incontrovertible  truth,  beyond  which  everything 
is  an  object  of  mere  curiosity  to  man.  Our  information, 
however,  about  the  opinions  of  the  more  celebrated 
Stoics  is  very  scanty.  None  of  their  own  writings  are 
preserved.  We  know  little  of  them  but  from  Cicero, 
the  translator  of  Grecian  philosophy,  and  from  the  Greek 
compilers  of  a  later  age;  authorities  which  would  be  im¬ 
perfect  in  the  history  of  facts,  but  which  are  of  far  less 
value  in  the  history  of  opinions,  where  a  right  concep¬ 
tion  often  depends  upon  the  minutest  distinctions  be¬ 
tween  words.  We  know  that  Zeno  was  more  simple, 
and  that  Chrysippus,  who  was  accounted  the  prop  of  the 
Stoic  Porch,  abounded  more  in  subtile  distinction  and 

*  “Nil  generosum,  nil  magnificum  sapit.'*  Cicero. 

D 


26 


PROGRESS  Ob 


systematic  spirit.*  His  power  was  attested  as  much  by 
tlie  antagonists  whom  he  called  forth,  as  by  the  scholars 
whom  he  formed.  “  Had  there  been  no  Chrysippus,  there 
would  have  been  no  Carneades,77  was  the  saying  of  the 
latter  philosopher  himself ;  as  it  might  have  been  said 
in  the  eighteenth  century,  “Had  there  been  no  Hume, 
there  would  have  been  no  Kant  and  no  Reid.77  Clean - 
thes,  when  one  of  his  followers  would  pay  court  to  him 
by  laying  vices  to  the  charge  of  his  most  formidable  op¬ 
ponent,  Arcesilaus  the  academic,  answered  with  a  justice 
and  candour  unhappily  too  rare,  “  Silence, — do  not 
malign  him; — though  he  attacks  virtue  by  his  arguments, 
he  confirms  its  authority  by  his  life.77  Arcesilaus,  whe¬ 
ther  modestly  or  churlishly,  replied,  “  I  do  not  choose 
to  be  flattered.77  Cleanthes,  with  a  superiority  of  re¬ 
partee,  as  well  as  charity,  replied,  “  Is  it  flattery  to  say 
that  you  speak  one  thing  and  do  another?77  It  would 
be  vain  to  expect  that  the  fragments  of  the  professors 
who  lectured  in  the  stoic  school  for  five  hundred  years, 
should  be  capable  of  being  moulded  into  one  consistent 
system;  and  we  see  that  in  Epictetus  at  least,  the  exag¬ 
geration  of  the  sect  was  lowered  to  the  level  of  reason,  by 
confining  the  sufficiency  of  virtue  to  those  cases  only 
where  happiness  is  attainable  by  our  voluntary  acts.  It 
ought  to  be  added,  in  extenuation  of  a  noble  error,  that 
the  power  of  habit  and  character  to  struggle  against  out¬ 
ward  evils  has  been  proved  by  experience  to  be  in  some 
instances  so  prodigious,  that  no  man  can  presume  to  fix 
the  utmost  limit  of  its  possible  increase. 

The  attempt,  however,  of  the  Stoics  to  stretch  the 
bounds  of  their  system  beyond  the  limits  of  nature,  pro¬ 
duced  the  inevitable  inconvenience  of  dooming  them  to 


*  “  Chrysippus,  qui  fulcire  putatur  porticum  Stoicorum.”  Cicero. 
Elsewhere,  “Acutissimus,  sed  in  scribendo  exilis  et  jejuntis,  scripsitrhetori- 
cam  seu  potius  obmutescendi  artem;”  nearly  as  we  should  speak  of  a  school¬ 
man. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


27 


fluctuate  between  a  wild  fanaticism  on  the  one  hand,  and, 
on  the  other,  concessions  which  left  their  differences 
from  other  philosophers  purely  verbal.  Many  of  their 
doctrines  appear  to  be  modifications  of  their  original 
opinions,  introduced  as  opposition  became  more  formida¬ 
ble.  In  this  manner  they  were  driven  to  the  necessity 
of  admitting  that  the  objects  of  our  desires  and  appetites 
are  worthy  of  preference,  though  they  are  denied  to  be 
constituents  of  happiness.  It  was  thus  that  they  were 
obliged  to  invent  a  double  morality;  one  for  mankind  at 
large,  from  whom  was  expected  no  more  than  the 
— which  seems  principally  to  have  denoted  acts  of  duty 
done  from  inferior  or  mixed  motives ;  and  the  other, 
which  they  appear  to  have  hoped  from  their  ideal  wise 
man,  is  ^Toge®/**,  or  perfect  observance  of  rectitude, — 
which  consisted  only  in  moral  acts  done  for  mere  rever¬ 
ence  for  morality,  unaided  by  any  feelings;  all  which 
(without  the  exception  of  pity)  they  classed  among  the 
enemies  of  reason  and  the  disturbers  of  the  human  soul. 
Thus  did  they  shrink  from  their  proudest  paradoxes  into 
verbal  evasions.  It  is  remarkable  that  men  so  acute  did 
not  perceive  and  acknowledge,  that  if  pain  were  not  an 
evil,  cruelty  would  not  be  a  vice;  and  that  if  patience 
were  of  power  to  render  torture  indifferent,  virtue  must 
expire  in  the  moment  of  victory.  There  can  be  no 
more  triumph  when  there  is  no  enemy  left  to  conquer.* 
The  influence  of  men’s  opinions  on  the  conduct  of  their 
lives  is  checked  and  modified  by  so  many  causes — it  so 
much  depends  on  the  strength  of  conviction,  on  its  ha¬ 
bitual  combination  with  feelings,  on  the  concurrence  or 
resistance  of  interest,  passion,  example,  and  sympathy 
— that  a  wise  man  is  not  the  most  forward  in  attempting 


*  “  Patience,  sovereign  o’er  transmuted  ill.”  But  as  soon  as  the  ill  was  • 
really  “  transmuted”  into  good,  it  is  evident  that  there  was  no  longer  any 
scope  left  for  the  exercise  of  patience. 


28 


PliOGUESS  OF 


to  determine  the  power  of  its  single  operation  over  hu¬ 
man  actions.  In  the  case  of  an  individual  it  becomes 
altogether  uncertain.  But  when  the  experiment  is  made 
on  a  large  scale,  when  it  is  long  continued  and  varied  in 
its  circumstances,  and  especially  when  great  bodies  of 
men  are  for  ages  the  subject  of  it,  we  cannot  reasonably 
reject  the  consideration  of  the  inferences  to  which  it  ap¬ 
pears  to  lead.  The  Roman  Patriciate,  trained  in  the 
conquest  and  government  of  the  civilized  world,  in  spite 
of  the  tyrannical  vices  which  sprung  from  that  training, 
were  raised  by  the  greatness  of  their  objects  to  an  ele¬ 
vation  of  genius  and  character  unmatched  by  any  other 
aristocracy;  at  the  moment  when,  after  preserving  their 
power  by  a  long  course  of  wise  compromise  with  the 
people,  they  were  betrayed  by  the  army  and  the  popu¬ 
lace  into  the  hands  of  a  single  tyrant  of  their  own  order 
— the  most  accomplished  of  usurpers,  and,  if  humanity 
and  justice  could  for  a  moment  be  silenced,  one  of  the  most 
illustrious  of  men.  There  is  no  scene  in  history  so 
memorable  as  that  in  which  Caesar  mastered  a  nobility 
of  which  Lucullusand  Iiortensius,  Sulpicius  andCatulus, 
Pompey  and  Cicero,  Brutus  and  Cato,  were  members. 
This  renowned  body  had  from  the  time  of  Scipio  sought 
the  Greek  philosophy  as  an  amusement  or  an  ornament. 
Some  few,  6i  in  thought  more  elevate,5'  caught  the  love 
of  truth,  and  were  ambitious  of  discovering  a  solid 
foundation  for  the  Rule  of  Life.  The  influence  of  the 
Grecian  systems  was  tried  by  their  effect  on  a  body  of 
men  of  the  utmost  originality,  energy,  and  variety  of 
character,  during  the  five  centuries  between  Carneades 
and  Constantine,  in  their  successive  positions  of  rulers 
of  the  world,  and  of  slaves  under  the  best  and  under  the 
worst  of  uncontrolled  masters.  If  we  had  found  this  in¬ 
fluence  perfectly  uniform,  we  should  have  justly  suspect¬ 
ed  our  own  love  of  system  of  having  in  part  bestowed 
that  appearance  on  it.  Had  there  been  no  trace  of  such 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


29 


an  influence  discoverable  in  so  great  an  experiment,  we 
must  have  acquiesced  in  the  paradox,  that  opinion  does 
not  at  all  affect  conduct.  The  result  is  the  more  satis¬ 
factory,  because  it  appears  to  illustrate  general  tendency 
without  excluding  very  remarkable  exceptions.  Though 
Cassius  was  an  Epicurean,  the  true  representative  of  that 
school  was  the  accomplished,  prudent,  friendly,  good- 
natured  timeserver  Atticus,  the  pliant  slave  of  every 
tyrant,  who  could  kiss  the  hand  of  Antony,  imbrued  as  it 
was  in  the  blood  of  Cicero.  The  pure  school  of  Plato 
sent  forth  Marcus  Brutus,  the  signal  humanity  of  whose 
life  was  both  necessary  and  sufficient  to  prove  that  his 
daring  breach  of  venerable  rules  flowed  only  from  that 
dire  necessity  which  left  no  other  means  of  upholding 
the  most  sacred  principles.  The  Roman  orator,  though 
in  speculative  questions  he  embraced  that  mitigated 
doubt  which  allowed  most  ease  and  freedom  to  his  genius, 
yet  in  those  moral  writings  where  his  heart  was  most 
deeply  interested,  followed  the  severest  sect  of  philoso¬ 
phy,  and  became  almost  a  Stoic.  If  any  conclusion  may 
be  hazarded  from  this  trial  of  systems,  the  greatest  which 
history  has  recorded,  we  must  not  refuse  our  decided 
though  not  undistinguishing  preference  to  that  noble 
school  which  preserved  great  souls  untainted  at  the  court 
of  dissolute  and  ferocious  tyrants;  which  exalted  the  slave 
of  one  of  Nero?s  courtiers  to  be  a  moral  teacher  of  after¬ 
times;  which  for  the  first,  and  hitherto  for  the  only  time, 
breathed  philosophy  and  justice  into  those  rules  of  law 
which  govern  the  ordinary  concerns  of  every  man;  and 
which,  above  all,  has  contributed,  by  the  examples  of 
Marcus  Porcius  Cato  and  of  Marcus  Aurelius  Antoninus, 
to  raise  the  dignity  of  our  species,  to  keep  alive  a  more 
ardent  love  of  virtue,  and  a  more  awful  sense  of  duty, 
throughout  all  generations.* 

*  Of  all  testimonies  to  the  character  of  the  Stoics,  perhaps  the  most  de¬ 
cisive  is  the  speech  of  the  vile  sycophant  Capito,  in  the  mock  impeachment 


30 


PROGRESS  OF 


The  result  of  this  short  review  of  the  practical  philo¬ 
sophy  of  Greece  seems  to  be,  that  though  it  was  rich  iu 
rules  for  the  conduct  of  life,  and  in  exhibitions  of  the 
beauty  of  virtue,  and  though  it  contains  glimpses  of  just 
theory  and  fragments  of  perhaps  every  moral  truth,  yet 
it  did  not  leave  behind  any  precise  and  coherent  system: 
unless  we  except  that  of  Epicurus,  who  purchased  con¬ 
sistency,  method,  and  perspicuity  too  dearly  by  the  sacri¬ 
fice  of  truth,  and  by  narrowing  and  lowering  his  views  of 
human  nature,  so  as  to  enfeeble,  if  not  extinguish,  all  the 
vigorous  motives  to  arduous  virtue.  It  is  remarkable, 
that  while  of  the  eight  professors  who  taught  in  the 
porch,  from  Zeno  to  Posidonius,  every  one  either  soft¬ 
ened  or  exaggerated  the  doctrines  of  his  predecessor; 
and  while  the  beautiful  and  reverend  philosophy  of  Plato 
had,  in  his  own  academy,  degenerated  into  a  scepticism 
which  did  not  spare  morality  itself,  the  system  of  Epi¬ 
curus  remained  without  change;  and  his  disciples  con¬ 
tinued  for  ages  to  show  personal  honours  to  his  memory, 
in  a  manner  which  may  seem  unaccountable  among  those 
who  were  taught  to  measure  propriety  by  a  calculation 
of  palpable  and  outward  usefulness.  This  steady  adhe¬ 
rence  is  in  part  doubtless  attributable  to  the  portion  of 
truth  which  the  doctrine  contains;  in  some  degree  per¬ 
haps  to  the  amiable  and  unboastful  character  of  Epicu¬ 
rus  ;  not  a  little,  it  may  be,  to  the  dishonour  of  deserting 
an  unpopular  cause;  but  probably  most  of  all  to  that 
mental  indolence  which  disposes  the  mind  to  rest  in  a 
simple  system,  comprehended  at  a  glance,  and  easily  fall¬ 
ing  in,  both  with  ordinary  maxims  of  discretion,  and  with 

of  Thrasea  Pxtus,  before  a  senate  of  slaves:  “  Ut  quondam  C.  Casarem  et 
M.  Catonem,  ita  nunc  te,  Nero,  et  Thraseam,  avida  discordiarum  civitas  lo¬ 
quitur...  Ista  secta  Tuberones  et  Favonios,  veteri  quoque  rei-publica  ingrata 
nomina,  genuit.”  (Tacit.  Ann.  xvi.  22.) 

See  Notes  and  Illustrations,  note  A. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


31 


the  vulgar  commonplaces  of  satire  on  human  nature.* 
When  all  instruction  was  conveyed  by  lectures,  and 
when  one  master  taught  the  whole  circle  of  the  sciences 
in  one  school,  it  was  natural  that  the  attachment  of  pu¬ 
pils  to  a  professor  should  be  more  devoted  than  when, 
as  in  our  times,  he  can  teach  only  a  small  portion  of  a 
knowledge  spreading  towards  infinity,  and  even  in  his 
own  little  province  finds  a  rival  in  every  good  writer 
who  has  treated  the  same  subject.  The  superior  at¬ 
tachment  of  the  Epicureans  to  their  master  is  not  with¬ 
out  some  parallel  among  the  followers  of  similar  princi¬ 
ples  in  our  own  age,  who  have  also  revived  some  part  of 
that  indifference  to  eloquence  and  poetry  which  may  be 
imputed  to  the  habit  of  contemplating  all  things  in  rela¬ 
tion  to  happiness,  and  to  (what  seems  its  uniform  effect) 
the  egregious  miscalculation  which  leaves  a  multitude  of 
mental  pleasures  out  of  the  account.  It  may  be  said, 
indeed,  that  the  Epicurean  doctrine  has  continued  with 
little  change  to  the  present  day;  at  least  it  is  certain  that 
no  other  ancient  doctrine  has  proved  so  capable  of  being 
restored  in  the  same  form  among  the  moderns;  and  it 
may  be  added,  that  Hobbes  and  Gassendi,  as  well  as 
some  of  our  own  contemporaries,  are  as  confident  in  their 
opinions,  and  as  intolerant  of  scepticism,  as  the  old  Epi¬ 
cureans.  The  resemblance  of  modern  to  ancient  opin¬ 
ions,  concerning  some  of  those  questions  upon  which 
ethical  controversy  must  always  hinge,  may  be  a  suffi¬ 
cient  excuse  for  a  retrospect  of  the  Greek  morals;  which 
it  is  hoped  will  simplify  and  shorten  subsequent  obser- 

*  The  progress  of  commonplace  satire  on  sexes  or  professions,  and  (he 
might  have  added)  on  nations,  has  been  exquisitely  touched  by  Gray  in  his 
Remarks  on  Lydgate;  a  fragment  containing  passages  as  finely  thought  and 
written  as  any  in  English  prose.  (Gray’s  Works,  Matthias’s  edition,  vol.  I. 
p.  55.)  General  satire  on  mankind  is  still  more  absurd;  for  no  invective  can 
be  so  unreasonable  as  that  which  is  founded  on  falling  short  of  an  ideal 
standard. 


32 


PROGRESS  OV 


vation  on  those  more  recent  disputes  which  form  the 
proper  subject  of  this  discourse. 

The  genius  of  Greece  fell  with  liberty.  The  Grecian 
philosophy  received  its  mortal  wound  in  the  contests 
between  scepticism  and  dogmatism  which  occupied  the 
schools  in  the  age  of  Cicero.  The  Sceptics  could  only 
perplex,  and  confute,  and  destroy.  Their  occupation  was 
gone  as  soon  as  they  succeeded.  They  had  nothing  to  sub¬ 
stitute  for  what  they  overthrew;  and  they  rendered  their 
own  art  of  no  further  use.  They  were  no  more  than 
venomous  animals,  who  stung  their  victims  to  death,  but 
also  breathed  their  last  into  the  wound.  A  third  age  of 
Grecian  literature  indeed  arose  at  Alexandria,  under  the 
Macedonian  kings  of  Egypt;  laudably  distinguished  by 
exposition,  criticism  and  imitation,  sometimes  abused  for 
the  purposes  of  literary  forgery,  still  more  honoured  by 
some  learned  and  highly- cultivated  poets,  as  well  as  by 
diligent  cultivators  of  history  and  science;  among  whom 
some  began  about  the  first  preaching  of  Christianity  to 
turn  their  minds  once  more  to  that  high  philosophy 
which  seeks  for  the  fundamental  principles  of  human 
knowledge.  Philo,  a  learned  and  philosophical  Hebrew, 
one  of  the  flourishing  colony  of  his  nation  established  in 
that  city,  endeavoured  to  reconcile  the  Platonic  Philoso¬ 
phy  with  the  Mosaic  Law  and  the  Sacred  Books  of  the 
Old  Testament.  About  the  end  of  the  second  century, 
when  the  Christians,  Hebrews,  Pagans,  and  various  other 
sects  of  semi  or  Pseudo-Christian  Gnostics  appear  to  have 
studied  in  the  same  schools,  the  almost  inevitable  ten¬ 
dency  of  doctrines,  however  discordant,  in  such  circum¬ 
stances  to  amalgamate,  produced  its  full  effect  under  Am- 
monius  Saccas;  a  celebrated  professor,  who,  by  selection 
from  the  Greek  systems,  the  Hebrew  books,  the  oriental 
religions,  and  by  some  of  that  concession  to  the  rising 
spirit  of  Christianity,  of  which  the  Gnostics  had  set  the 
example,  composed  a  very  mixed  system,  commonly  de- 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


33 


signated  as  the  Eclectic  Philosophy.  The  controversies 
between  his  contemporaries  and  followers,  especially 
those  of  Clement  and  Origen,  the  victorious  champions  of 
Christianity,  with  Plotinus  and  Porphyry,  who  endea¬ 
voured  to  preserve  Paganism  by  clothing  it  in  a  disguise 
of  philosophical  Theism,  are,  from  the  effects  towards 
which  they  contributed,  the  most  memorable  in  the  his¬ 
tory  of  human  opinion.*  But  their  connexion  with 
modern  ethics  is  too  faint  to  warrant  any  observation  in 
this  place,  on  the  imperfect  and  partial  memorials  of  them 
which  have  reached  us.  The  death  of  Boethius  in  the 
west,  and  the  closing  of  the  Athenian,  schools  by  Justi¬ 
nian,  may  be  considered  as  the  last  events  in  the  history 
of  ancient  philosophy.! 


SECTION  III. 

Retrospect  of  Scholastic  Ethics. 

An  interval  of  a  thousand  years  elapsed  between  the 
close  of  ancient  and  the  rise  of  modern  philosophy;  the 

*  The  change  attempted  by  Julian,  Porphyry,  and  their  friends, by  which 
Theism  would  have  become  the  popular  religion,  may  be  estimated  by  the 
memorable  passage  of  Tacitus  on  the  Theism  of  the  Jews.  In  the  midst  of 
all  the  obloquy  and  opprobrium  with  whioh  he  loads  that  people,  his  tone 
suddenly  rises  when  he  comes  to  contemplate  them  as  the  only  nation  who 
paid  religious  honours  to  the  supreme  and  eternal  mind  alone,  and  his  style 
swells  at  the  sight  of  so  sublime  and  wonderful  a  scene.  “  Summum  Hind 
atque  sternum,  neque  mutabile  neque  interiturum.” 

f  The  punishment  of  death  was  inflicted  on  Pagans  by  a  law  of  Constan- 
tius.  “  Yolumus  cunctos  sacrificiis  abstinere.  Si  aliquid  hujusmodi  perpe- 
traverint,  gladio  ultore  sternantur.”  (Cod.  I.  tit.  xi.  de  Paganis ,  A.D.  343 
or  346.)  From  the  authorities  cited  by  Gibbon,  (note,  chap.  xi. )  as  well 
as  from  some  research,  it  should  seem  that  the  edict  for  the  suppression  of 
the  Athenian  schools  was  not  admitted  into  the  vast  collection  of  laws  en¬ 
acted  or  systematized  by  Justinian. 

E 


34 


PROGRESS  OF 


most  unexplored,  yet  not  the  least  instructive  portion  of 
the  history  of  European  opinion.  In  that  period  the 
sources  of  the  institutions,  the  manners,  the  charac¬ 
teristic  distinctions  of  modern  nations,  have  been  traced 
by  a  series  of  philosophical  inquirers  from  Montesquieu 
to  Hallam;  and  there  also,  it  may  be  added,  more  than 
among  the  ancients,  are  the  wellsprings  of  our  specula¬ 
tive  doctrines  and  controversies.  Far  from  being  inac¬ 
tive,  the  human  mind,  during  that  period  of  exaggerated 
darkness,  produced  discoveries  in  science,  inventions  in 
art,  and  contrivances  in  government,  some  of  which, 
perhaps,  were  rather  favoured  than  hindered  by  the 
disorders  of  society,  and  by  the  twilight  in  which 
men  and  things  were  seen.  Had  Boethius,  the  last  of  the 
ancients,  foreseen,  that  within  two  centuriesof  his  death, 
in  the  province  of  Britain,  then  a  prey  to  all  the  horrors 
of  barbaric  invasion,  a  chief  of  one  of  the  fiercest  tribes 
of  barbarians  should  translate  into  the  jargon  of  his  free¬ 
booters  the  work  on  The  Consolations  of  Philosophy , 
of  which  the  composition  had  soothed  the  cruel  imprison¬ 
ment  of  the  philosophical  Roman  himself,  he  must,  even 
amidst  his  sufferings,  have  derived  some  gratification 
from  such  an  assurance  of  the  recovery  of  mankind  from 
ferocity  and  ignorance.  But  had  he  been  allowed  to 
revisit  the  earth  in  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century, 
with  what  wonder  and  delight  might  he  have  contem¬ 
plated  the  new  and  fairer  order  which  was  beginning  to 
disclose  its  beauty,  and  to  promise  more  than  it  revealed. 
He  would  have  seen  personal  slavery  nearly  extinguish¬ 
ed,  and  women,  first  released  from  oriental  imprison¬ 
ment  by  the  Greeks,  and  raised  to  a  higher  dignity  among 
the  Romans,*  at  length  fast  approaching  to  due  equality; 


*  The  steps  of  this  important  progress,  as  far  as  relates  to  Athens  and 
Rome,  are  well  remarked  by  one  of  the  finest  of  the  Roman  writers.  “  Quern 
enim  Romanorum  pudet  uxorem  ducere  in  convivium)  aut  cujus  materfa- 
pulias  non  primum  locum  tenet  xdium,  atque  in  celebritate  versatur?  quod 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


35 


two  revolutions  the  most  signal  and  beneficial  since  the 
dawn  of  civilization.  He  would  have  seen  the  disco¬ 
very  of  gunpowder,  which  for  ever  guarded  civilized 
society  against  barbarians,  while  it  transferred  military 
strength  from  the  few  to  the  many;  of  paper  and  print¬ 
ing,  which  rendered  a  second  destruction  of  the  reposi¬ 
tories  of  knowledge  impossible,  as  well  as  opened  a  way 
by  which  it  was  to  be  finally  accessible  to  all  mankind; 
of  the  compass,  by  means  of  which  navigation  had  as¬ 
certained  the  form  of  the  planet,  and  laid  open  a  new 
continent  more  extensive  than  his  world.  If  he  had 
turned  to  civil  institutions,  he  might  have  learned  that 
some  nations  had  preserved  an  ancient,  simple,  and 
seemingly  rude  mode  of  legal  proceeding,  which  threw 
into  the  hands  of  the  majority  of  men  a  far  larger  share 
of  judicial  power  than  was  enjoyed  by  them  in  any  an¬ 
cient  democracy.  He  would  have  seen  everywhere  the 
remains  of  that  principle  of  representation,  the  glory  of 
the  Teutonic  race,  by  which  popular  government, 
anciently  imprisoned  in  cities,  became  capable  of  being 
strengthenedbyits  extension  overvast  countries,  to  which 
experience  cannot  even  now  assign  any  limits;  and  which, 
in  times  still  distant,  was  to  exhibit,  in  the  newly- disco¬ 
vered  continent,  a  republican  confederacy,  likely  to 
surpass  the  Macedonian  and  Roman  empires  in  extent, 
greatness,  and  duration,  but  gloriously  founded  on  the 
equal  rights,  not  like  them  on  the  universal  subjection, 
of  mankind.  In  one  respect,  indeed,  he  might  have 
lamented  that  the  race  of  man  had  made  a  really  retro¬ 
grade  movement;  that  they  had  lost  the  liberty  of 
philosophizing;  that  the  open  exercise  of  their  highest 
faculties  was  interdicted.  Butdie  might  also  have  per- 

multo  fit  aliter  in  Graecia;  nam  neque  in  convivium  adhibetur,  nisi  propin- 
quorum,  neque  sedet  nisi  in  interiore  parte  aedium,  quae  Gynseconitis  appel- 
latuiy  quo  nemoacceditj  nisi  propinqua  cognatione  conjunctus.”  (Cohnm, 
Nepob  in  Fraefat  ) 


36 


PROGRESS  OF 


ceived  that  this  giant  evil  had  received  a  mortal  wound 
from  Luther,  who  in  his  warfare  against  Rome  had 
struck  a  blow  against  all  human  authority,  and  uncon¬ 
sciously  disclosed  to  mankind  that  they  were  entitled,  or 
rather  bound,  to  form  and  utter  their  own  opinions,  and 
most  of  all  on  the  most  deeply  interesting  subjects:  for 
although  this  most  fruitful  of  moral  truths  was  not  yet 
so  released  from  its  combination  with  the  wars  and  pas¬ 
sions  of  the  age  as  to  assume  a  distinct  and  visible  form, 
its  action  was  already  discoverable  in  the  divisions  among 
the  Reformers,  and  in  the  fears  and  struggles  of  civil 
and  ecclesiastical  oppressors.  The  Council  of  Trent, 
and  the  Courts  of  Paris,  Madrid,  and  Rome,  had  before 
that  time  foreboded  the  emancipation  of  reason. 

Though  the  middle  age  be  chiefly  memorable  as  that 
in  which  the  foundations  of  a  new  order  of  society  were 
laid,  uniting  the  stability  of  the  oriental  system,  without 
its  inflexibility,  to  the  activity  of  the  Hellenic  civiliza¬ 
tion,  without  its  disorder  and  inconstancy,  yet  it  is  not 
unworthy  of  notice,  on  account  of  the  subterranean  cur¬ 
rent  which  flows  through  it,  from  the  speculations  of  an¬ 
cient  to  those  of  modern  times.  That  dark  stream  must 
be  uncovered  before  the  history  of  the  European  un¬ 
derstanding  can  be  thoroughly  comprehended.  It  was 
lawful  for  the  emancipators  of  reason  in  their  first  strug¬ 
gles  to  carry  on  mortal  war  against  the  schoolmen. 
The  necessity  has  long  ceased ;  they  are  no  longer  dan¬ 
gerous  ;  and  it  is  now  felt  by  philosophers  that  it  is  time 
to  explore  and  estimate  that  vast  portion  of  the  history 
of  philosophy  from  which  we  have  scornfully  turned  our 
eyes.*  A  few  sentences  only  can  be  allotted  to  the 

*  Tenneman,  Geschichte  der  Philosophic,  VIII.  Band.  1811.  Cotrsnr, 
Cours  de  l’ Hisloire  de  la  Philos,  p.  29.  Paris,  1828.  My  esteem  for  this 
admirable  writer  encourages  me  to  say,  that  the  beauty  of  his  diction  has 
sometimes  the  same  effect  on  his  thoughts  that  a  sunny  haze  produces  on 
outward  objects;  and  to  submit  to  his  serious  consideration,  whether  the 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


37 


subject  in  this  place.  In  the  first  moiety  of  the  middle 
age,  the  darkness  of  Christendom  was  faintly  broken 
by  a  few  thinly-scattered  lights.  Even  then,  Moses 
Ben  Maimon  taught  philosophy  among  the  persecuted 
Hebrews,  whose  ancient  schools  had  never  perhaps  been 
wholly  interrupted;  and  a  series  of  distinguished  Maho¬ 
metans,  among  whom  two  are  known  to  us  by  the  names 
of  Avicenna  and  Averroes,  translated  the  Peripatetic 
writings  into  their  own  language,  expounded  their 
doctrines  in  no  servile  spirit  to  their  followers,  and 
enabled  the  European  Christians  to  make  those  versions 
of  them  from  Arabic  into  Latin,  which  in  the  eleventh 
and  twelfth  centuries  gave  birth  to  the  scholastic  philo¬ 
sophy. 

The  schoolmen  were  properly  theologians,  who  employ¬ 
ed  philosophy  only  to  define  and  support  that  system 
of  Christian  belief  which  they  and  their  contemporaries 
had  embraced.  The  founder  of  that  theological  system 
was  Aurelius  Augustinus,*  (called  by  us  Augustin)  bishop 
of  Hippo,  in  the  province  of  Africa;  a  man  of  great  ge¬ 
nius  and  ardent  character,  who  adopted  at  different  pe¬ 
riods  of  his  life  the  most  various,  but  at  all  times  the  most 
decisiveand  systematic,  as  well  as  daring  and  extreme  opin¬ 
ions.  This  extraordinary  man  became,  after  some  strug¬ 
gles,  the  chief  Doctor,  and  for  ages  almost  the  sole  oracle 
of  the  Latin  church.  It  happened  by  a  singular  accident, 
that  the  schoolmen  of  the  twelfth  century,  who  adopted 
his  theology,  instead  of  borrowing  their  defensive  weapons 


allurements  of  Schelling’s  system  have  not  betrayed  him  into  a  too  frequent 
forgetfulness  that  principles,  equally  adapted  to  all  phenomena,  furnish  in 
speculation  no  possible  test  of  their  truth,  and  lead,  in  practice,  to  total  in¬ 
difference  and  inactivity  respecting  human  affairs.  I  quote  with  pleasure 
an  excellent  observation  from  this  work.  “  Le  moyen  age  n’est  pas  autre 
chose  que  la  formation  penible,  lente  et  sanglante,  de  tons  les  elemens  de  la 
civilisation  moderne;  je  dis  la  formation,  et  non  leur  developpement.  ” 
(P.27.) 

*  Notes  and  Illustrations,  note  B. 


38 


PROGRESS  OF 


from  Plato,  the  favourite  of  their  master,  had  recourse 
for  the  exposition  and  maintenance  of  their  doctrines  to 
the  writings  of  Aristotle,  the  least  pious  of  philosophical 
theists.  The  Augustinean  doctrines  of  original  sin,  pre¬ 
destination,  and  grace,  little  known  to  the  earlier  Chris¬ 
tian  writers,  who  appear  indeed  to  have  adopted  oppo¬ 
site  and  milder  opinions,  were  espoused  by  Augustin 
himself  in  his  old  age  ;  when  by  a  violent  spring  from  his 
youthful  Manicheism,  which  divided  the  sovreignty  of  the 
world  betw-een  two  adverse  beings,  he  did  not  shrink,  in 
his  pious  solicitude  for  tracing  the  power  of  God  in  all 
events,  from  presenting  the  most  mysterious  parts  of  the 
moral  government  of  the  universe,  in  their  darkest  colours 
and  their  sternest  shape,  as  articles  of  faith,  the  objects  of 
the  habitual  meditation  and  practical  assent  of  mankind. 
The  principles  of  his  rigorous  system,  though  not  with  all 
their  legitimate  consequences,  were  taught  in  schools  ; 
respectfully  promulgated  rather  than  much  inculcated 
by  the  western  church  (for  in  the  east  these  opinions 
seem  to  have  been  unknown) ;  scarcely  perhaps  distinct¬ 
ly  assented  to  by  the  majority  of  the  clergy  ;  and  seldom 
heard  of  by  laymen  till  the  systematic  genius  and  fervid 
eloquence  of  Calvin  rendered  them  a  popular  creed  in 
the  most  devout  and  moral  portion  of  the  Christian  world. 
Anselm,*  the  Piedmontese  archbishop  of  Canterbury 
was  the  earliest  reviver  of  the  Augustinean  opinions. 
Aquinasf  was  their  most  redoubted  champion.  To  them, 
however,  the  latter  joined  others  of  a  different  spirit. 
Faith,  according  to  him,  was  a  virtue,  not  in  the  sense  in 
which  it  denotes  the  things  believed,  but  in  that  in  which 
it  signifies  the  state  of  mind  which  leads  to  right  belief. 
Goodness  he  regarded  as  the  moving  principle  of  the 
Divine  government;  justice  as  a  modification  of  good- 


*  Died  in  1109. 

f  Born  in  1224  ;  died  in  1279.  Notes  and  Illustrations,  note  C. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


39 


ness;  and,  with  all  his  zeal  to  magnify  the sovreignty of 
God,  he  yet  taught,  that  though  God  always  wills  what 
is  just,  nothing  is  just  solely  because  he  wills  it.  Sco- 
tus,* * * §  the  most  subtile  of  doctors,  recoils  from  the  Augus- 
tinean  rigour,  though  he  rather  intimates  than  avows  his 
doubts.  He  was  assailed  for  his  tendency  towards  the 
Pelagian  or  Anti-Augustinean  doctrines  by  many  oppo¬ 
nents,  of  whom  the  most  famous  in  his  time  was  Thomas 
Bradwardine,f  archbishop  of  Canterbury,  formerly  con¬ 
fessor  of  Edward  III.,  whose  defence  of  predestination 
was  among  the  most  noted  works  of  that  age.  He  reviv¬ 
ed  the  principles  of  the  ancient  philosophers,  who,  from 
Plato  to  Marcus  Aurelius,  taught  that  error  of  judgment, 
being  involuntary,  is  not  the  proper  subject  of  moral  dis¬ 
approbation  ;  which  indeed  is  implied  in  Acquina’s  ac¬ 
count  of  faith. X  But  he  appears  to  have  been  the  first 
whose  language  inclined  towards  that  most  pernicious  of 
moral  heresies,  which  represents  morality  to  be  founded 
on  will. §>  William  of  Ockham,  the  most  justly  celebrated 
of  English  schoolmen,  went  so  far  beyond  this  inclination 
of  his  master,  as  to  affirm,  that  if  God  had  commanded 
his  creatures  to  hate  himself,  the  hatred  of  God  would 
ever  be  the  duty  of  man  a  monstrous  hyperbole,  into 


*  Born  about  1265  ;  died  at  Cologne  (where  his  grave  is  still  shown)  in 
1308.  Whether  he  was  a  native  of  Dunstun  in  Northumberland,  or  of 
Dunse  in  Berwickshire,  or  of  Down  in  Ireland,  was  a  question  long  and 
warmly  contested,  but  which  seems  to  be  settled  by  his  biographer,  Luke 
Wadding,  who  quotes  a  passage  of  Scotus’s  commentary  on  Aristotle’s 
Metaphysics,  where  he  illustrates  his  author  thus:  “  As  in  the  definition  of 
St  Francis,  or  St  Patrick,  man  is  necessarily  presupposed.”  (Scoti  Opera, 
I.  3.)  As  Scotus  was  a  Franciscan,  the  mention  of  St  Patrick  seems  to  show 
that  he  was  an  Irishman.  Notes  and  Illustrations,  note  D. 

•}■  Born  about  1290  ;  died  in  1349  ;  the  contemporary  of  Chaucer,  and 
probably  a  fellow  student  of  Wicliffe  and  Roger  Bacon.  His  principle; 
work  was  entitled,  De  Causa  Dei  contra  Pelagium,  et  de  Virtute  causarum, 
Libri  III. 

t  Notes  and  Illustrations,  note  E . 

§  Notes  and  Illustrations,  note  F. 


40 


PROGRESS  OF 


which  he  was  perhaps  betrayed  by  his  denial  of  the 
doctrine  of  general  ideas,  the  pre-existence  of  which  in  the 
the  Eternal  intellect  was  commonly  regarded  as  the  foun¬ 
dation  of  the  immutable  nature  of  morality.  The  doc¬ 
trine  of  Ockham,  which  by  necessary  implication  refuses 
moral  attributes  to  the  Deity,  and  contradicts  the  exis¬ 
tence  of  a  moral  government,  is  practically  equivalent  to 
atheism.*  As  all  devotional  feelings  have  moral  quali¬ 
ties  for  their  sole  object ;  as  no  being  can  inspire  love  or 
reverence  otherwise  than  by  those  qualities  which  are 
naturally  amiable  or  venerable,  this  doctrine  would,  if 
men  were  consistent,  extinguish  piety,  or,  in  other  words, 
annihilate  religion.  Yet  so  astonishing  are  the  contra¬ 
dictions  of  human  nature,  that  this  most  impious  of  all 
opinions  probably  originated  in  a  pious  solicitude  to  mag¬ 
nify  the  sovreignty  of  God,  and  to  exalt  his  authority 
even  above  his  own  goodness.  Hence  we  may  under¬ 
stand  its  adoption  by  John  Gerson,  the  oracle  of  the  Coun¬ 
cil  of  Constance,  and  the  great  opponent  of  the  spiritual 
monarchy  of  the  Pope  ;  a  pious  mystic,  who  placed  re¬ 
ligion  in  devout  feeling. f  In  further  explanation,  it  may 
be  added,  that  Gerson  was  of  the  sect  of  the  Nominalists, 
of  which  Ockham  was  the  founder ;  and  that  he  was  the 
more  ready  to  follow  his  master,  because  they  both  cou¬ 
rageously  maintained  the  independence  of  the  state  on 
the  church,  and  the  authority  of  the  church  over  the 
Pope.  The  general  opinion  of  the  schools  was,  how¬ 
ever,  that  of  Aquinas,  who,  from  the  native  soundness 
of  his  own  understanding,  as  well  as  from  the  excellent 
example  of  Aristotle,  was  averse  from  all  rash  and  ex- 


*A  passage  to  this  effect,  from  Ockham,  with  nearly  the  same  remark, 
haS,  since  the  text  was  written,  been  discovered  on  a  re-perusal  of  Cud- 
worth’s  Immutable  Morality.  See  p.  10. 

f  Remitto  ad  quod  Occam  de  hac  materia  in  Lib.  Sentent.  dicit,  in  qua 
cxplicatione  si  rudis  judicetur,  nescio  quid  appellabitur  subtilitas.”  (Gkr- 
sos  de  Vita  Spirit  Op.  Ill  14.  Hag.  Com.  1728. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


41 


treme  dogmas  on  questions  which  had  any  relation,  how¬ 
ever  distant,'  to  the  duties  of  life. 

It  is  very  remarkable,  though  hitherto  unobserved, 
that  Aquinas  anticipated  those  controversies  respecting 
perfect  disinterestedness  in  the  religious  affections  which 
occupied  the  most  illustrious  members  of  his  communion* 
four  hundred  years  after  his  death  ;  and  that  he  discuss¬ 
ed  the  like  question  respecting  the  other  affections  of 
human  nature  with  a  fulness  and  clearness,  and  exactness 
of  distinction,  and  a  justness  of  determination,  scarcely 
surpassed  by  the  most  acute  of  modern  philosophers.f 
It  ought  to  be  added,  that,  according  to  the  most  natural 
and  reasonable  construction  of  his  words,  he  allowed  to 
the  church  a  control  only  over  spiritual  concerns,  and 
recognised  the  supremacy  of  the  civil  powers  in  all  tem¬ 
poral  affairs.^ 

It  has  already  been  stated  that  the  scholastic  sys¬ 
tem  was  a  collection  of  dialectical  subtilties,  contrived 
for  the  support  of  the  corrupted  Christianity  of  that  age, 
bY  a  succession  of  divines,  whose  extraordinary  powers 
of  distinction  and  reasoning  were  morbidly  enlarged  in 
the  long  meditation  of  the  cloister,  by  the  exclusion  of 
every  other  pursuit,  and  the  consequent  palsy  of  every 
other  faculty  ;  who  were  cut  off  from  all  the  materials  on 
which  the  mind  can  operate,  and  doomed  for  ever  to 
toil  in  defence  of  what  they  must  never  dare  to  examine  ; 
to  whom  their  age  and  their  condition  denied  the  means 
of  acquiring  literature,  of  observing  nature,  or  of  study¬ 
ing  mankind.  The  few  in  whom  any  portion  of  ima- 

*  Bossuet  and  Fenelon. 

f  See  AauiNAs.  Comm,  in  Hi.  Lib.  Sentent.  distinctio  xxix.  qu&st.  i.  art. 
3.  “Utrum  Deus  sit  super  omnia  diligendus  ex  charitate.”  Art.  4. 
“  Utrum  in  dilectione  Dei  possit  haberi  l-espectus  ad  aliquam  mercedem.” 
(Opera,  IX.  322,  325.)  Some  illustrations  of  this  memorable  anticipation, 
which  has  escaped  the  research  even  of  the  industrious  Tenneman,  will  be 
found  in  the  Notes  and  Illustrations,  note  G. 

t  Notes  and  Illustrations,  note  H. 

F 


42 


PROGRESS  OF 


gination  and  sensibility  survived  this  discipline,  retired 
from  the  noise  of  debate,  to  the  contemplation  of  pure 
and  beautiful  visions.  They  were  called  Mystics.  The 
greater  part,  driven  back  on  themselves,  had  no  better 
employment  than  to  weave  cobwebs  out  of  the  terms  of 
art  which  they  had  vainly,  though  ingeniously,  multi¬ 
plied.  The  institution  of  clerical  celibacy,  originating 
in  an  enthusiastic  pursuit  of  purity,  promoted  by  a  mis¬ 
take  in  moral  prudence,  which  aimed  at  raising  religious 
teachers  in  the  esteem  of  their  fellows,  and  at  concentra¬ 
ting  their  whole  minds  on  professional  duties,  at  last,  en¬ 
couraged  by  the  ambitious  policy  of  the  see  of  Rome, 
desirous  of  detaching  them  from  all  ties  but  her  own,  had 
the  effect  of  shutting  up  all  the  avenues  which  Provi¬ 
dence  has  opened  for  the  entrance  of  social  affection  and 
virtuous  feeling  into  the  human  heart.  Though  this  in¬ 
stitution  perhaps  prevented  knowledge  from  becoming 
once  more  the  exclusive  inheritance  of  a  sacerdotal  caste; 
though  the  rise  of  innumerable  laymen,  of  the  lowest  con¬ 
dition,  to  the  highest  dignities  of  the  church,  was  the 
grand  demoeratical  principle  of  the  middle  age,  and  one 
of  the  most  powerful  agents  in  impelling  mankind  to¬ 
wards  a  better  order ;  yet  celibacy  must  be  considered 
as  one  of  the  peculiar  infelicities  of  these  secluded  phi¬ 
losophers  ;  not  only  as  it  abridged  their  happiness,  nor 
even  solely,  though  chiefly,  as  it  excluded  them  from 
the  school  in  which  the  heart  is  humanized,  but  also 
(an  inferior  consideration,  but  more  pertinent  to  our  pre¬ 
sent  purpose)  because  the  extinction  of  these  moral  feel¬ 
ings  was  as  much  a  subtraction  from  the  moralist’s  store 
of  facts  and  means  of  knowledge,  as  the  loss  of  sight  or 
of  touch  could  prove  to  those  of  the  naturalist. 

Neither  let  it  be  thought  that  to  have  been  destitute 
of  letters  was  to  them  no  more  than  a  want  of  ornament 
and  a  curtailment  of  gratification.  Every  poem,  every 
history,  every  oration,  every  picture,  every  statue  is  an 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


43 


experiment  on  human  feeling,  the  grand  object  of  inves¬ 
tigation  by  the  moralist.  Every  work  of  genius  in 
every  department  of  ingenious  art  and  polite  literature, 
in  proportion  to  the  extent  and  duration  of  its  sway  over 
the  spirits  of  men,  is  a  repository  of  ethical  facts,  of 
which  the  moral  philosopher  cannot  be  deprived  by  his 
own  insensibility  or  by  the  iniquity  of  the  times,  with¬ 
out  being  robbed  of  the  most  precious  instruments  and 
invaluable  materials  of  his  science.  Moreover,  letters, 
which  are  closer  to  human  feeling  than  science  can  ever 
be,  have  another  influence  on  the  sentiments  with  which 
the  sciences  are  viewed,  on  the  activity  with  which 
they  are  pursued,  on  the  safety  with  which  they  are 
preserved,  and  even  on  the  mode  and  spirit  in  which 
they  are  cultivated  :  they  are  the  channels  by  which 
ethical  science  has  a  constant  intercourse  with  general 
feeling.  As  the  arts  called  useful  maintain  the  popular 
honour  of  physical  knowledge,  so  polite  letters  allure 
the  world  into  the  neighbourhood  of  the  sciences  of 
mind  and  of  morals.  Whenever  the  agreeable  vehicles 
of  literature  do  not  convey  their  doctrines  to  the  public, 
they  are  liable  to  be  interrupted  by  the  dispersion  of  a 
handful  of  recluse  doctors,  and  the  overthrow  of  their 
barren  and  unlamented  seminaries.  Nor  is  this  all : 
these  sciences  themselves  suffer  as  much  when  they  are 
thus  released  from  the  curb  of  common  sense  and  natural 
feeling,  as  the  public  loses  by  the  want  of  those  aids  to 
right  practice,  which  moral  knowledge  in  its  sound  state 
is  qualified  to  afford.  The  necessity  of  being  intelligible 
at  least  to  all  persons  who  join  superior  understanding 
to  habits  of  reflection,  who  are  themselves  in  constant 
communication  with  the  far  wider  circle  of  intelligent 
and  judicious  men,  which  slowly  but  surely  forms  gene¬ 
ral  opinion,  is  the  only  effectual  check  on  the  natural 
proneness  of  metaphysical  speculations  to  degenerate 
into  gaudy  dreams  or  a  mere  war  of  words.  The  dis- 


44 


PROGRESS  OF 


putants  who  are  set  free  from  the  wholesome  check  of 
sense  and  feeling,  generally  carry  their  dogmatism  so 
far  as  to  rouse  the  sceptic,  who  from  time  to  time  is  pro¬ 
voked  to  look  into  the  flimsiness  of  their  cobwebs,  and 
rushes  in  with  his  besom  to  sweep  them  and  their  sys¬ 
tems  into  oblivion.  It  is  true  that  literature,  which 
thus  draws  forth  moral  science  from  the  schools  into  the 
world,  and  recalls  her  from  thorny  distinctions  to  her 
natural  alliance  with  the  intellect  and  sentiments  of  man¬ 
kind,  may,  in  ages  and  nations  otherwise  situated,  pro- 
*  duce  the  contrary  evil  of  rendering  Ethics  shallow, 
declamatory,  and  inconsistent.  Europe  at  this  moment 
affords,  in  different  countries,  specimens  of  these  oppo¬ 
site  and  alike- mischievous  extremes.  But  we  are  now 
concerned  only  with  the  temptations  and  errors  of  the 
scholastic  age. 

We  ought  not  so  much  to  wonder  at  the  mistakes  of 
men  so  situated,  as  that  they,  without  the  restraints  of 
the  general  understanding,  and  with  the  clogs  of  system 
and  establishment,  should  in  so  many  instances  have 
opened  questions  untouched  by  the  more  unfettered  an¬ 
cients,  and  veins  of  speculation  since  mistakenly  sup¬ 
posed  to  have  been  first  explored  in  more  modern  times. 
Scarcely  any  metaphysical  controversy  agitated  among 
recent  philosophers  was  unknown  to  the  schoolmen,  un¬ 
less  we  except  that  which  relates  to  liberty  and  necessity, 
which  would  be  an  exception  of  doubtful  propriety ; 
for  the  disposition  to  it  is  clearly  discoverable  in  the 
disputes  of  the  Thomists  and  Scotists  respecting  the 
Augustinian  and  Pelagian  doctrines,*  although  restrained 
from  the  avowal  of  legitimate  consequences  on  either 
side  by  the  theological  authority  which  both  parties 
acknowledged.  The  Scotists  steadily  affirmed  the 
blamelessness  of  erroneous  opinion ;  a  principle  which 
is  the  only  effectual  security  for  conscientious  inquiry. 


’  Notes  and  Illustrations,  note  I  • 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


45 


for  mutual  kindness,  and  for  public  quiet.  The  contro¬ 
versy  between  the  Nominalists  and  realists,  treated  by 
some  modern  writers  as  an  example  of  barbarous  wrang¬ 
ling,  was  in  truth  an  anticipation  of  that  modern  dispute 
which  still  divides  metaphysicians,  whether  the  human 
mind  can  form  general  ideas,  and  whether  the  words 
which  are  supposed  to  convey  such  ideas  be  not  general 
terms,  representing  only  a  number  of  particular  percep¬ 
tions  ? — questions  so  far  from  frivolous,  that  they  deeply 
concern  both  the  nature  of  reasoning  and  the  structure 
of  language ; — on  which  Hobbes,  Berkeley,  Hume, 
Stewart,  and  Tooke,  have  followed  the  Nominalists  ; 
and  Descartes,  Locke,  Reid,  and  Kant,  have,  with  va¬ 
rious  modifications  and  some  inconsistencies,  adopted  the 
doctrine  of  the  Realists.*  With  the  schoolmen  appears 
to  have  originated  the  form,  though  not  the  substance, 
of  the  celebrated  maxim,  which,  whether  true  or  false, 
is  pregnant  with  systems,  “  There  is  nothing  in  the  un¬ 
derstanding  which  was  not  before  in  the  senses.77!  Ock¬ 
ham!  the  Nominalist  first  denied  the  Peripatetic  doc¬ 
trine  of  the  existence  of  certain  species  (since  the  time 
of  Descartes  called  ideas)  as  the  direct  objects  of  per¬ 
ception  and  thought,  interposed  between  the  mind  and 
outward  objects ;  the  modern  opposition  to  which  by 
Dr  Reid  has  been  supposed  to  justify  the  allotment  of 
so  high  a  station  to  that  respectable  philosopher.  He 


*  Locke  speaks  on  this  subject  inconsistently  ;  Reid  calls  himself  a  Con- 
ceptualist ;  Kant  uses  terms  so  different  that  he  ought  perhaps  to  be  con¬ 
sidered  as  of  neither  party.  Leibnitz,  varying  in  some  measure  from  the 
general  spirit  of  his  speculations,  warmly  panegyrizes  the  Nominalists  ; 
“  Secta  Nominalium,  omnium  inter  scholasticos  prpfundissima,  et  hodierna: 
reformats  philosophandi  rationi  congruentissima. ”  (Leibx.  Op.  IV.  Pars 
i.  p.  59.) 

X  Nil  est  in  inlellectu  quod  non  prius  fuit  in  sensu. 

*  “  Maximi  vir  ingenii,  et  eruditionis  pro  illo  aevo  summaj,  Wilhelmus 
Occam,  Anglus.”  (Leibn.  ibid.  p.  60.)  The  writings  of  Ockham,  which 
are  very  rare,  I  have  never  seen.  I  owe  my  knowledge  of  them  to  Tenne- 
man,  who  however  quotes  the  words  of  Ockham,  and  of  his  disciple  Biel. 


46 


PROGRESS  OF 


taught  also  that  we  know  nothing  of  mind  but  its  acts, 
of  which  we  are  conscious.  More  inclination  towards  an 
independent  philosophy  is  to  be  traced  among  the  school¬ 
men  than  might  be  expected  from  their  circumstances. 
Those  who  follow  two  guides  will  sometimes  choose  for 
themselves,  and  may  prefer  the  subordinate  on  some  oc¬ 
casions.  Aristotle  rivalled  the  church  ;  and  the  church 
herself  safely  allowed  considerable  latitude  to  the  philo¬ 
sophical  reasonings  of  those  who  were  only  heard  or 
read  in  colleges  or  cloisters,  on.  condition  that  they 
neither  impugned  her  authority,  nor  dissented  from  her 
worship,  nor  departed  from  the  language  of  her  creeds. 
The  Nominalists  were  a  freethinking  sect,  who,  notwith¬ 
standing  their  defence  of  kings  against  the  court  of 
Rome,  were  persecuted  by  the  civil  power.  It  should 
not  be  forgotten  that  Luther  was  a  Nominalist.* 

If  not  more  remarkable,  it  is  more  pertinent  to  our 
purpose,  that  the  ethical  system  of  the  schoolmen,  or, 
to  speak  more  properly,  of  Aquinas,  as  the  moral  master 
of  Christendom  for  three  centuries,  was  in  its  practical 
part  so  excellent  as  to  leave  little  need  of  extensive 
change,  with  the  inevitable  exception  of  the  connection 
of  his  religious  opinions  with  his  precepts  and  counsels. 
His  rule  of  life  is  neither  lax  nor  impracticable.  His 
grounds  of  duty  are  solely  laid  in  the  nature  of  man,  and 
in  the  wellbeing  of  society.  Such  an  intruder  as  sub- 
tilty  seldom  strays  into  his  moral  instructions.  With  a 
most  imperfect  knowledge  of  the  Peripatetic  writings,  he 
came  near  the  great  master,  by  abstaining,  in  practical 
philosophy,  from  the  unsuitable  exercise  of  that  faculty 
of  distinction,  in  which  he  would  probably  have  shown 
that  he  was  little  inferior  to  Aristotle  if  he  had  been 
equally  unrestrained.  His  very  frequent  coincidence 


*  “In  Martini  Lutheri  scriptis  prioribus  amor  Nominalium  satis  elucet, 
donee  in  omnes  monachos  sequaliter  affectus  esse  coepit.”  (Leibn.  IV. 
Pars  i.  p.  60.) 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


47 


with  modern  moralists  is  doubtless  to  be  ascribed  chiefly 
to  the  nature  of  the  subject ;  but  in  part  also  to  that  un¬ 
broken  succession  of  teachers  and  writers,  which  pre¬ 
served  the  observations  contained  in  what  had  been  long 
the  text-book  of  the  European  schools,  after  the  books 
themselves  had  been  for  ages  banished  and  forgotten. 
The  praises  bestowed  on  Aquinas  by  every  one  of  the 
few  great  men  who  appear  to  have  examined  his  writings 
since  the  downfal  of  his  power,  among  whom  may  be 
mentioned  Erasmus,  Grotius  and  Leibnitz,  are  chiefly, 
though  not  solely,  referable  to  his  ethical  works.* 
Though  the  schoolmen  had  thus  anticipated  many 
modern  controversies  of  a  properly  metaphysical  sort, 
they  left  untouched  most  of  those  questions  of  ethical 
theory  which  were  unknown  to,  or  neglected  by  the 
ancients.  They  do  not  appear  to  have  discriminated  be¬ 
tween  the  nature  of  moral  sentiments,  and  the  criterion 
of  moral  acts  ;  to  have  considered  to  what  faculty  of  our 
mind  moral  approbation  is  referable  ;  or  to  have  inquired 
whether  our  moral  faculty,  whatever  it  may  be,  is  im¬ 
planted  or  acquired.  Those  who  measure  only  by  pal¬ 
pable  results,  have  very  consistently  regarded  the  me¬ 
taphysical  and  theological  controversies  of  the  schools  as 
a  mere  waste  of  intellectual  power.  But  the  contem¬ 
plation  of  the  athletic  vigour  and  versatile  skill  manifested 
by  the  European  understanding,  at  the  moment  when  it 
emerged  from  this  tedious  and  rugged  discipline,  leads, 
if  not  to  approbation,  yet  to  more  qualified  censure. 
What  might  have  been  the  result  of  a  different  combina¬ 
tion  of  circumstances,  is  an  inquiry  which,  on  a  large 
scale,  is  beyond  human  power.  We  may  however  ven¬ 
ture  to  say,  that  no  abstract  science,  unconnected  with 
religion,  was  likely  to  be  respected  in  a  barbarous  age  ; 
and  we  may  be  allowed  to  doubt  whether  any  knowledge, 


*  See  especially  the  excellent  Preface  of  Leibnitz  to  Nizolius,  sect.  37. 


48 


PROGRESS  OF 


dependent  directly  on  experience,  and  applicable  to 
immediate  practice,  would  have  so  trained  the  European 
mind  as  to  qualify  it  for  that  series  of  inventions,  and 
discoveries,  and  institutions,  which  begins  with  the  six¬ 
teenth  century,  and  of  which  no  end  can  now  be  foreseen 
but  the  extinction  of  the  race  of  man. 

The  fifteenth  century  was  occupied  by  the  disputes 
of  the  Realists  with  the  Nominalists,  in  which  the  scho¬ 
lastic  doctrine  expired.  After  its  close  no  schoolman  of 
note  appeared.  The  sixteenth  may  be  considered  as 
the  age  of  transition  from  the  scholastic  to  the  modern 
philosophy.  The  former,  indeed,  retained  possession  of 
the  Universities,  and  was  long  after  distinguished  by  all 
the  ensigns  of  authority.  But  the  mines  were  already 
prepared.  The  revolution  in  opinion  had  commenced. 
The  moral  writings  of  the  preceding  times  had  generally 
been  commentaries  on  that  part  of  the  Swnma  Theolo- 
gix  of  Aquinas  which  relates  to  Ethics.  Though  these 
still  continued  to  be  published,  yet  the  most  remarkable 
moralists  of  the  sixteenth  century  indicated  the  ap¬ 
proach  of  other  modes  of  thinking,  by  the  adoption  of 
the  more  independent  titles  of  Treatises  on  Justice  and 
Law.  These  titles  were  suggested,  and  the  spirit, 
contents,  and  style  of  the  writings  themselves,  were  ma¬ 
terially  affected  by  the  improved  cultivation  of  the  Ro¬ 
man  law,  by  the  renewed  study  of  ancient  literature, 
and  by  the  revival  of  various  systems  of  Greek  philosophy, 
now  studied  in  the  original,  which  at  once  mitigated  and 
rivalled  the  scholastic  doctors,  and  while  they  rendered 
philosophy  more  free,  re-opened  its  communications 
with  society  and  affairs.  The  speculative  theology 
which  had  arisen  under  the  French  governments  of  Paris 
and  London  in  the  twelfth  century,  which  flourished  in 
the  thirteenth  in  Italy  in  the  hands  of  Aquinas,  which 
was  advanced  in  the  British  islands  by  Scotus  and  Ock¬ 
ham  in  the  fourteenth,  was,  in  the  sixteenth,  with  una- 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


49 


bated  acuteness,  but  with  a  clearness  and  elegance  un¬ 
known  before  the  restoration  of  letters,  cultivated  by- 
Spain,  in  that  age  the  most  powerful  and  magnificent  of 
the  European  nations. 

Many  of  these  writers  treated  the  law  of  war  and  the 
practice  of  hostilities  in  a  juridical  form.*  Francis  Vic¬ 
toria,  who  began  to  teach  at  Valladolid  in  1525,  is  said 
to  have  first  expounded  the  doctrines  of  the  schools  in 
the  language  of  the  age  of  Leo  the  Tenth.  Dominic 
Soto,f  a  Dominican,  the  confessor  of  Charles  V.,  and  the 
oracle  of  the  council  of  Trent,  to  whom  that  assembly 
were  indebted  for  much  of  the  precision  and  even  ele¬ 
gance  for  which  their  doctrinal  decrees  are  not  unjustly 
commended,  dedicated  his  treatise  on  Justice  and  Law 
to  Don  Carlos;  in  terms  of  praise  which,  used  by  a  writer 
who  is  said  to  have  declined  the  high  dignities  of  the 
church,  lead  us  to  hope  that  he  was  unacquainted  with 
the  brutish  vices  of  that  wretched  prince.  It  is  a  con¬ 
cise  and  not  inelegant  compound  of  the  scholastic  ethics, 
which  continued  to  be  of  considerable  authority  for  more 
than  a  century.  J  Both  he  and  his  master  Victoria  de¬ 
serve  to  be  had  in  everlasting  remembrance,  for  the 


*  Many  of  the  separate'_disscrtations,  on  points  of  this  nature,  are  contained 
in  the  immense  collection  entitled  Tractatus  Tractatuum,  published  at  Ven¬ 
ice  in  1584,  under  the  patronage  of  the  Roman  see.  There  are  three  de 
Bello,-  one  by  Lupus  of  Segovia  when  Francis  I.  was  prisoner  in  Spain; 
another,  more  celebrated,  by  Francis  Arias,  who,  on  the  11th  June  1532, 
discussed  before  the  College  of  Cardinals  the  legitimacy  of  a  war  by  the 
Emperor  against  the  Pope.  There  are  two  de  Pace  ;  and  others  dePotestate 
Regia ,  de  Pcena  Mortis ,  8tc.  The  most  ancient  and  scholastic  is  that  of  J. 
de  Lignano  of  Milan  de  Bello.  The  above  writers  are  mentioned  in  the 
Prolegomena  to  Grotius  de  Jure  Belli.  Pietro  Belloni  (Counsellor  of  the 
Duke  of  Savoy)  de  Re  Militari ,  treats  his  subject  with  the  minuteness  of 
a  judge-advocate,  and  has  more  modern  examples,  chiefly  Italian,  than 
Grotius. 

f  Born  in  1494;  died  in  1560.  ( Antonit  Bibliotheca  Hispana  Nova.)  The 
opinion  of  Soto’s  knowledge  entertained  by  his  contemporaries  is  expressed 
in  a  jingle,  Qui  scit  Sotum  scit  totum. 

J  Notes  and  Illustrations,  note  K. 

G 


50 


PROGRESS  OF 


part  which  they  took  on  behalf  of  the  natives  of  America 
and  of  Africa,  against  the  rapacity  and  cruelty  of  the 
Spaniards.  Victoria  pronounced  war  against  the 
Americans  for  their  vices  or  for  their  paganism  to  be 
unjust.*  Soto  was  the  authority  chiefly  consulted  by 
Chales  V.,  on  occasion  of  the  conference  held  before  him 
at  Valladolid  in  1542,  between  Sepulveda,  an  advocate 
of  the  Spanish  colonists,  and  Las  Casas,  the  champion 
of  the  unhappy  Americans ;  of  which  the  result  was  a 
very  imperfect  edict  of  reformation  in  1543,  which, 
though  it  contained  little  more  than  a  recognition  of  the 
principle  of  justice,  almost  excited  a  rebellion  in  Mexico. 
Sepulveda,  a  scholar  and  a  reasoner,  advanced  many 
maxims  which  were  specious,  and  in  themselves  reasona¬ 
ble,  but  which  practically  tended  to  defeat  even  the 
scanty  and  almost  illusive  reform  which  ensued.  Las 
Casas  was  a  passionate  missionary,  whose  zeal,  kindled 
by  the  long  and  near  contemplation  of  cruelty,  prompted 
him  to  exaggerations  of  fact  and  argument  ;f  yet,  with 
all  its  errors,  it  afforded  the  only  hope  of  preserving  the 
natives  of  America  from  extirpation.  The  opinion  of 
Soto  could  not  fail  to  be  conformable  to  his  excellent  prin¬ 
ciple,  that  (i  there  can  be  no  difference  between  Chris¬ 
tians  and  Pagans,  for  the  law  of  nations  is  equal  to  all 
nations. To  Soto  belongs  the  signal  honour  of  being 
the  first  writer  who  condemned  the  African  slave-trade. 
“  It  is  affirmed/7  says  he,  (( that  the  unhappy  Ethiopians'^ 
are  by  fraud  or  force  carried  away  and  sold  as  slaves. 
If  this  is  true,  neither  those  who  have  taken  them,  nor 
those  who  purchased  them,  nor  those  who  hold  them 
in  bondage,  can  ever  have  a  quiet  conscience  till  they 


*  “  Indis  non  debere  auferri  imperium,  ideo  quia  sunt  peccatores,  vel 
ideo  quia  non  sunt  Christiani,”  were  the  words  of  Victoria. 

■J-  Notes  and  Illustrations,  note  L. 

f  “Nequediscrepantia(utreor)est  inter  Christianos  etinfideles,  quoniam 
ius  gentium  cunctis  gentibus  sequale  est.” 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


51 


emancipate  them,  even  if  no  compensation  should  be  ob¬ 
tained.7’*  As  the  work  which  contains  this  memorable 
condemnation  of  man-stealing  and  slavery  was  the  sub¬ 
stance  of  lectures  many  years  delivered  at  Salamanca, 
philosophy  and  religion  appear,  by  the  hand  of  their 
faithful  minister,  to  have  thus  smitten  the  monsters  in 
their  earliest  infancy.  It  is  hard  for  any  man  of  the  pre¬ 
sent  age  to  conceive  the  praise  which  is  due  to  the  ex¬ 
cellent  monks  who  courageously  asserted  the  rights  of 
those  whom  they  never  saw,  against  the  prejudices  of 
their  order,  the  supposed  interest  of  their  religion,  the 
ambition  of  their  government,  the  avarice  and  pride  of 
their  countrymen,  and  the  prevalent  opinions  of  their 
time. 

Francis  Suarez,  f  a  Jesuit,  whose  voluminous  works 
amount  to  twenty-four  volumes  in  folio,  closes  the  list  of 
writers  of  his  class  .  His  work  on  Laws ,  and  God  the 
Lawgiver ,  may  be  added  to  the  above  treatise  of  Soto, 
as  exhibiting  the  most  accessible  and  perspicuous  abridg¬ 
ment  of  the  theological  philosophy  in  its  latest  form. 

Grotius,  who,  though  he  was  the  most  upright  and 
candid  of  men,  could  not  have  praised  a  Spanish  Jesuit 
beyond  his  deserts,  calls  Suarez  the  most  acute  of  philo¬ 
sophers  and  divines. %  On  a  practical  matter,  which 
may  be  naturally  mentioned  here,  though  in  strict  me¬ 
thod  it  belongs  to  another  subject,  the  merit  of  Suarez 

♦ 

is  conspicuous.  He  first  saw  that  international  law  was 
composed  not  only  of  the  simple  principles  of  justice 
applied  to  the  intercourse  between  states,  but  of  those 
usages,  long  observed  in  that  intercourse  by  the  Euro¬ 
pean  race,  which  have  since  been  more  exactly  distin¬ 
guished  as  the  consuetudinary  law  acknowledged  by  the 

*  Soto  de  Justitia  et  Jure,  lib.  iv.  quxst.  ii.  art.  2. 

f  Born  in  1538  ;  died  in  1617. 

+  “  Tantae  subtilitatis  philosophum  et  theologum,  ut  vix  quemquam  ha 
beat  parem.”  (Grotii  Epist.  apud  Anton.  Bibl,  Hisp.  Nova . ) 


52 


PROGRESS  OF 


Christian  nations  of  Europe  and  America.* * * §  On  this  im¬ 
portant  point  his  views  are  more  clear  than  those  of  his 
contemporary  Alberico  Gentili.f  It  must  even  be  owned 
that  the  succeeding  intimation  of  the  same  general  doc¬ 
trine  by  Grotius  is  somewhat  more  dark,  perhaps  from 
his  excessive  pursuit  of  concise  diction. :j: 


SECTION  IV. 


Modern  Ethics. 

The  introduction  to  the  great  work  of  Grotius,^  com¬ 
posed  in  the  first  years  of  his  exile,  and  published  at 
Paris  in  1625,  contains  the  most  clear  and  authentic 
statement  of  the  general  principles  of  morals  prevalent 
in  Christendom  after  the  close  of  the  schools,  and  before 
the  writings  of  Hobbes  had  given  rise  to  those  ethical 
controversies  which  more  peculiarly  belong  to  modern 
times.  That  he  may  lay  down  the  fundamental  princi¬ 
ples  of  Ethics,  he  introduces  Carneades  on  the  stage  as 
denying  altogether  the  reality  of  moral  distinctions; 
teaching  that  law  and  morality  are  contrived  by  power¬ 
ful  men  for  their  own  interest;  that  they  vary  in  differ¬ 
ent  countries,  and  change  in  successive  ages ;  that  there 


*  “Nunquam  enim  civitates  sunt  sibi  tam  sufficientes  quin  indig-cant  rau- 
tuo  juvamine  et  societate,  interdum  ad  majorem  utilitatem,  interdum  ob  ne- 
cessitatem  moralem.  Hac  ig-itur  ratione  indigent  aliquo  jure  quo  dirigantur 
et  recte  ordinentur  in  hoc  genere  societatis.  Et  quamvis  magna  ex  parte 
hoc  fiat  per  rationem  naturalem,  non  tamen  sufficienter  et  immediate  quoad 
omnia,  ideoque  specialia  jura  poterant  usu  earundcm  gentium  introduci .” 
(Suarez  de  Legibus ,  lib.  ii.  cap.  ii.  9.  et  seq.) 

f  Born  in  the  March  of  Ancona  in  1550;  died  at  London  in  1608. 

|  Ghotius  deJure  Belli,  lib.  i.  cap.  i.  sect.  14. 

§  Prolegomena.  His  letter  to  Vossius,  of  1st  August  1625,  determines 
the  exact  period  of  the  publication  of  this  famous  work.  Grotii  Epist ■  74. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


53 


* 


can  be  no  natural  law,  since  nature  leads  men  as  well  as 
other  animals  to  prefer  their  own  interest  to  every  other 
object;  that  therefore  there  is  either  no  justice,  or  if 
there  be,  it  is  another  name  for  the  height  of  folly,  inas¬ 
much  as  it  is  a  fond  attempt  to  persuade  a  human  being 
to  injure  himself  for  the  unnatural  purpose  of  benefiting 
his  fellow-men.* 

To  this  Grotius  answered,  that  even  inferior  animals, 
under  the  powerful  though  transient  impulse  of  parental 
love,  prefer  their  young  to  their  own  safety  or  life  ;  that 
gleams  of  compassion,  and,  he  might  have  added,  of  gra¬ 
titude  and  indignation,  appear  in  the  human  infant  long 
before  the  age  of  moral  discipline  ;  that  man  at  the  pe¬ 
riod  of  maturity  is  a  social  animal,  who  delights  in  the  so¬ 
ciety  of  his  fellow  creatures  for  its  own  sake,  indepen¬ 
dently  of  the  help  and  accommodation  which  it  yields  ; 
that  he  is  a  reasonable  being,  capable  of  framing  and  pur¬ 
suing  general  rules  of  conduct,  of  which  he  discerns  that 
the  observance  contributes  to  a  regular,  quiet,  and  hap¬ 
py  intercourse  between  all  the  members  of  the  commu¬ 
nity  ;  and  that  from  these  considerations  all  the  precepts 
of  morality,  and  all  the  commands  and  prohibitions  of 
just  law,  may  be  derived  by  impartial  reason.  (i  And 
these  principles,”  says  the  pious  philosopher,  (i  would 
have  their  weight,  even  if  it  were  to  be  granted  (which 
could  not  be  conceded  without  the  highest  impiety)  that 
there  is  no  God,  or  that  he  exercises  no  moral  govern¬ 
ment  over  human  affairs.”!  Natural  law  is  the  dictate 

*  The  same  commonplace  paradoxes  were  retailed  by  the  Sophists,  whom 
Socrates  is  introduced  as  chastising  in  the  Dialogues  of  Plato.  They  were 
common  enough  to  be  put  by  tire  historian  into  the  mouth  of  an  ambassa¬ 
dor  in  a  public  speech.  A.nS'gt  S's  Tugetwefi  »  ttoku  ag^v  i^ova-yi  ou^tv  a.\oyov 
o  <ri  %vy.qigov .  (Thtjcxd.  vi.  85.) 

j-  “  Et  hsec  quidem  locum  aliquem  haberent,  etiamsi  daretur  (quod  sine 
summo  scelere  dari  nequit)  non  esse  Deum,  aut  non  curari  ab  eo  negotia 
liumana.  ”  ( Proleg .  11.)  And  in  another  place,  “  Jus  naturaleest  dictatum 
rectae  rationis,  indicans  actui  alicui,  ex  ejus  convenientia  aut  disconvenien- 

/  *  A  .  _  «*  -y  V 

-jf-  ~hrv\  A  i-w  vfcj* 

Je  l 


54 


PRO GUESS  OF 


of  right  reason,  pronouncing  that  there  is  in  some  actions 
a  moral  obligation,  and  in  other  actions  a  moral  deformity, 
arising  from  their  respective  suitableness  or  repugnance 
to  the  reasonable  and  social  nature ;  and  that  conse¬ 
quently  such  acts  are  either  forbidden  or  enjoined  by 
God,  the  author  of  nature.  Actions  which  are  the  sub¬ 
ject  of  this  exertion  of  reason,  are  in  themselves  lawful 
or  unlawful,  and  are  therefore  as  such  necessarily  com¬ 
manded  or  prohibited  by  God.” 

Such  was  the  state  of  opinion  respecting  the  first  prin¬ 
ciples  of  the  moral  sciences,  when,  after  an  imprisonment 
of  a  thousand  years  in  the  cloister,  they  began  once  more 
to  hold  intercourse  with  the  general  understanding  of 
mankind.  It  will  be  seen  in  the  laxity  and  confusion, 
as  well  as  in  the  prudence  and  purity  of  this  exposition, 
that  some  part  of  the  method  and  precision  of  the  schools 
was  lost  with  their  endless  subtilties  and  their  barbarous 
language.  It  is  manifest  that  the  latter  paragraph  is  a 
proposition,  not  what  it  affects  to  be,  a  definition  ;  that 
as  a  proposition  it  contains  too  many  terms  very  necessary 
to  be  defined;  that  the  purpose  of  the  excellent  writer 
is  not  so  much  to  lay  down  a  first  principle  of  raorals,  as 
to  exert  his  unmatched  power  of  saying  much  in  few 
words,  in  order  to  assemble  within  the  smallest  compass 
the  most  weighty  inducements,  and  the  most  effectual 
persuasions  to  welldoing. 

This  was  the  condition  in  which  ethical  theory  was 
found  by  Hobbes,  with  whom  the  present  Dissertation 
should  have  commenced,  if  it  had  been  possible  to  state 
modern  controversies  in  a  satisfactory  manner,  without 
a  retrospect  of  the  revolutions  in  opinion  from  which 
they  in  some  measure  flowed. 


tia  cum  ipsa  natura  rationali  et  sociali,  inesse  moralem  turpitudinem  aut  ne- 
cessitatem  moralem,  ac  consequenter  ab  auctore  naturx  Deo  talem  actum 
aut  vetari  aut  prxcipi.  Actus  do  quibus  tale  exstat  dictatum,  debiti  sunt 
aut  illiciti  per  se,  atque  ideo  a  Deo  necessario  prsecepti  aut  vetiti  intelligun-  _ 
tur.”  (Lib.  i.  cap.  i.  sect.  10.) 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


55 


Hobbes.* 

Thomas  Hobbes  of  Malmesbury  may  be  numbered 
among  those  eminent  persons  born  in  the  latter  half  of 
the  sixteenth  century,  who  gave  a  new  character  to 
European  philosophy  in  the  succeeding  age.f  He  was 
one  of  the  late  writers  and  late  learners.  It  was  not  till 
he  was  nearly  thirty  that  he  supplied  the  defects  of  his 
early  education,  by  classical  studies  so  successfully  pro¬ 
secuted,  that  he  Wrote  well  in  the  Latin  then  used  by 
his  scientific  contemporaries;  and  made  such  proficiency 
in  Greek  as,  in  his  earliest  work,  the  Translation  of 
Thucydides,  published  when  he  was  forty,  to  afford  a 
specimen  of  a  version  still  valued  for  its  remarkable 
fidelity;  though  written  with  a  stiffness  and  constraint 
very  opposite  to  the  masterly  facility  of  his  original 
compositions.  It  was  after  forty  that  he  learned  the 
first  rudiments  of  geometry  (so  miserably  defective  was 
his  education) ;  but  yielding  to  the  paradoxical  disposi¬ 
tion  apt  to  infect  those  who  begin  to  learn  after  the  na¬ 
tural  age  of  commencement,  he  exposed  himself,  by  ab¬ 
surd  controversies  with  the  masters  of  a  science  which 
looks  down  with  scorn  on  the  Sophist.  A  considerable 
portion  of  his  mature  age  was  passed  on  the  Continent, 
where  he  travelled  as  tutor  to  two  successive  Earls  of 
Devonshire;  a  family  with  whom  he  seems  to  have  pass¬ 
ed  near  half  a  century  of  his  long  life.  In  France  his 
reputation,  founded  at  that  time  solely  on  personal  inter¬ 
course,  became  so  great,  that  his  observations  on  the 

*  Born  in  1588;  died  in  1679. 

-j-  Bacon,  Descartes,  Hobbes,  and  Grotius.  The  writings  of  the  first  are 
still  as  delightful  and  wonderful  as  they  ever  were,  and  his  authority  will 
have  no  end.  Descartes  forms  an  era  in  the  history  of  Metaphysics,  of 
Physics,  of  Mathematics.  The  controversies  excited  by  Grotius  have  long 
ceased,  but  the  powerful  influence  of  his  works  will  be  doubted  by  those 
only  who  are  unacquainted  with  the  disputes  of  the  seventeenth  century. 


56 


PROGRESS  OF 


Meditations  of  Descartes  were  published  in  the  works 
of  that  philosopher,  together  with  those  of  Gassendi  and 
Arnauld.*  It  was  about  his  sixtieth  year  that  he  be¬ 
gan  to  publish  those  philosophical  writings  which  contain 
his  peculiar  opinions; — which  set  the  understanding  of 
Europe  into  general  motion,  and  stirred  up  controversies 
among  metaphysicians  and  moralists,  not  even  yet  deter¬ 
mined.  At  the  age  of  eighty-seven  he  had  the  boldness 
to  publish  metrical  versions  of  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey, 
which  the  greatness  of  his  name,  and  the  singularity  of 
the  undertaking,  still  render  objects  of  curiosity,  if  not 
of  criticism.  He  owed  his  influence  to  various  causes; 

.  at  the  head  of  which  may  be  placed  that  genius  for 
system,  which,  though  it  cramps  the  growth  of  know¬ 
ledge, f  perhaps  finally  atones  for  that  mischief,  by  the 
zeal  and  activity  which  it  rouses  among  followers  and 
opponents,  who  discover  truth  by  accident,  when  in 
pursuit  of  weapons  for  their  warfare.  A  system  which 
attempts  a  task  so  hard  as  that  of  subjecting  vas|  pro¬ 
vinces  of  human  knowledge  to  one  or  two  principles,  if 
it  presents  some  striking  instances  of  conformity  to  su¬ 
perficial  appearances,  is  sure  to  delight  the  framer;  and, 
for  a  time,  to  subdue  and  captivate  the  student  too  en¬ 
tirely  for  sober  reflection  and  rigorous  examination. 
The  evil  does  not  indeed  very  frequently  recur.  Per¬ 
haps  Aristotle,  Hobbes,  and  Kant,  are  the  only  persons 
who  united  in  the  highest  degree  the  great  faculties  of 


*  The  prevalence  of  freethinking  under  Louis  XIII.,  to  a  far  greater  de¬ 
gree  than  it  was  avowed,  appears  not  only  from  the  complaints  of  Mersenne 
and  of  Grotius,  but  from  the  disclosures  of  Guy  Patin;  who,  in  his  Letters, 
describes  his  own  conversations  with  Gassendi  and  Naude,  so  as  to  leave  no 
doubt  of  their  opinions. 

|  “  Another  error,”  says  the  Master  of  Wisdom,  “  is  the  over-early  and 
peremptory  reduction  of  knowledge  into  arts  and  methods,  from  which 
time  commonly  receives  small  augmentation.”  (Bacon’s  Advancement  of 
Learning,  booki.)  “Method,”  says  he,  “carrying  a  show  of  total  and 
perfect  knowledge,  has  a  tendency  to  generate  acquiescence.”  What 
pregnant  words  ! 


ethical  philosophy. 


57 


comprehension  and  discrimination  which  compose  the 
Genius  of  System.  Of  the  three,  Aristotle  alone  could 
throw  it  off  where  it  was  glaringly  unsuitable  ;  and  it  is 
deserving  of  observation,  that  the  reign  of  system  seems, 
from  these  examples,  progressively  to  shorten  in  pro¬ 
portion  as  reason  is  cultivated  and  knowledge  advances. 
But,  in  the  first  instance,  consistency  passes  for  truth. 
When  principles  in  some  instances  have  proved  suffi¬ 
cient  to.give  an  unexpected  explanation  of  facts,  the  de¬ 
lighted  reader  is  content  to  accept  as  true  all  other  de¬ 
ductions  from  the  principles.  Specious  premises  being 
assumed  to  be  true,  nothing  more  can  be  required  than 
logical  inference.  Mathematical  forms  pass  current  as 
the  equivalent  of  mathematical  certainty.  The  unwary 
admirer  is  satisfied  with  the  completeness  and  symmetry 
of  the  plan  of  his  house — unmindful  of  the  need  of  ex¬ 
amining  the  firmness  of  the  foundation  and  the  soundness 
of  the  materials.  The  system-maker,  like  the  conqueror, 
long  dazzles  and  overawes  the  world ;  but  when  their 
sway  is  past,  the  vulgar  herd,  unable  to  measure  their 
astonishing  faculties,  take  revenge  by  trampling  on  fallen 
greatness. 

The  dogmatism  of  Hobbes  was,  however  unjustly, 
one  of  the  sources  of  his  fame.  The  founders  of  systems 
deliver  their  novelties  with  the  undoubting  spirit  of 
discoverers;  and  their  followers  are  apt  to  be  dogmatical, 
because  they  can  see  nothing  beyond  their  own  ground. 
It  might  seem  incredible,  if  it  were  not  established  by 
the  experience  of  all  ages,  that  those  who  differ  most 
from  the  opinions  of  their  fellow  men,  are  most  confident 
of  the  truth  of  their  own.  But  it  commonly  requires 
an  overweening  conceit  of  the  superiority  of  a  man’s  own 
judgment,  to  make  him  espouse  very  singular  notions  ; 
and  when  he  has  once  embraced  them,  they  are  endear¬ 
ed  to  him  by  the  hostility  of  those  whom  he  contemns  as 
the  prejudiced  vulgar.  The  temper  of  Hobbes  must 
H 


58 


PROGRESS  OF 


have  been  originally  haughty.  The  advanced  age  at 
which  he  published  his  obnoxious  opinions,  rendered 
him  more  impatient  of  the  acrimonious  opposition  which 
they  necessarily  provoked;  until  at  length  a  strong  sense 
of  the  injustice  of  the  punishment  impending  over  his 
head,  for  the  publication  of  what  he  believed  to  be 
truth,  co-operated  with  the  peevishness  and  timidity  of 
his  years,  to  render  him  the  most  imperious  and  morose 
of  dogmatists.  His  dogmatism  has  indeed  one  quality 
more  olfensive  than  that  of  most  others.  Propositions 
the  most  adverse  to  the  opinions  of  mankind,  and  the 
most  abhorrent  from  their  feelings,  are  introduced  into 
the  course  of  his  argument  with  mathematical  coldness. 
He  presents  them  as  demonstrated  conclusions,  without 
deigning  to  explain  to  his  fellow-creatures  how  they  all 
happened  to  believe  the  opposite  absurdities  ;  without 
even  the  compliment  of  once  observing  how  widely  his 
discoveries  were  at  variance  with  the  most  ancient  and 
universal  judgments  of  the  human  understanding.  The 
same  quality  in  Spinoza  indicates  a  recluse’s  ignorance 
of  the  world.  In  Hobbes  it  is  the  arrogance  of  a  man 
who  knows  mankind  and  despises  them. 

A  permanent  foundation  of  his  fame  consists  in  his 
admirable  style,  which  seems  to  be  the  very  perfection 
of  didactic  language.  Short,  clear,  precise,  pithy,  his 
language  never  has  more  than  one  meaning,  which  never 
requires  a  second  thought  to  find.  By  the  help  of  his 
exact  method,  it  takes  so  firm  a  hold  on  the  mind,  that 
it  will  not  allow  attention  to  slacken.  His  little  tract  on 
Human  Nature  has  scarcely  an  ambiguous  or  a  needless 
word.  He  has  so  great  a  power  of  always  choosing  the 
most  significant  term,  that  he  never  is  reduced  to  the 
poor  expedient  of  using  many  in  its  stead.  He  had  so 
thoroughly  studied  the  genius  of  the  language,  and  knew 
so  well  to  steer  between  pedantry  and  vulgarity,  that 
two  centuries  have  not  superannuated  probably  more 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


5y 

than  a  dozen  of  his  words.  His  expressions  are  so 
luminous,  that  he  is  clear  without  the  help  of  illustration. 
Perhaps  no  writer  of  any  age  or  nation,  on  subjects  so 
abstruse,  has  manifested  an  equal  power  of  engraving 
his  thoughts  on  the  mind  of  his  readers.  He  seems 
never  to  have  taken  a  word  for  ornament  or  pleasure  ; 
and  he  deals  with  eloquence  and  poetry  as  the  natural 
philosopher  who  explains  the  mechanism  of  children’s 
toys,  or  deigns  to  contrive  them.  Yet  his  style  so  stimu¬ 
lates  attention,  that  it  never  tires  ;  and  to  those  who  are 
acquainted  with  the  subject,  appears  to  have  as  much 
spirit  as  can  be  safely  blended  with  reason.  He  com¬ 
presses  his  thoughts  so  unaffectedly,  and  yet  so  tersely, 
as  to  produce  occasionally  maxims  which  excite  the 
same  agreeable  surprise  with  wit,  and  have  become  a 
sort  of  philosophical  proverbs  ;  the  success  of  which  he 
partly  owed  to  the  suitableness  of  such  forms  of  express¬ 
ion  to  his  dictatorial  nature.  His  words  have  such  an 
appearance  of  springing  from  his  thoughts,  as  to  im¬ 
press  on  the  reader  a  strong  opinion  of  his  originality, 
and  indeed  to  prove  that  he  was  not  conscious  of  bor¬ 
rowing;  though  conversation  with  Gassendi  must  have 
influenced  his  mind  ;  and  it  is  hard  to  believe  that  his 
coincidence  with  Ockham  should  have  been  purely  acci¬ 
dental,  on  points  so  important  as  the  denial  of  general 
ideas,  the  reference  of  moral  distinctions  to  superior 
power,  and  the  absolute  thraldom  of  religion  under  the 
civil  power,  which  he  seems  to  have  thought  necessary, 
to  maintain  that  independence  of  the  state  on  the  church 
with  which  Ockham  had  been  contented. 

His  philosophical  writings  might  be  read  without  re¬ 
minding  any  one  that  the  author  was  more  than  an  in¬ 
tellectual  machine.  They  never  betray  a  feeling  except 
that  insupportable  arrogance  which  looks  down  on  men 
as  a  lower  species  of  beings;  whose  almost  unanimous 
hostility  is  so  far  from  shaking  the  firmness  of  his 


60 


PROGRESS  OF 


conviction,  or  even  ruffling  the  calmness  of  his  contempt, 
that  it  appears  too  petty  a  circumstance  to  require  ex¬ 
planation,  or  even  to  merit  notice.  Let  it  not  be  for¬ 
gotten,  that  part  of  his  renown  depends  on  the  applica¬ 
tion  of  his  admirable  powers  to  expound  truth  when  he 
meets  it.  This  great  merit  is  conspicuous  in  that  part 
of  his  treatise  of  Human  Nature  which  relates  to  the 
percipient  and  reasoning  faculties.  It  is  also  very  re¬ 
markable  in  many  of  his  secondary  principles  on  the 
subject  of  government  and  law,  which,  while  the  first 
principles  are  false  and  dangerous,  are  as  admirable  for 
truth  as  for  his  accustomed  and  unrivalled  propriety  of 
expression.*  In  many  of  these  observations  he  even 
shows  a  disposition  to  soften  his  paradoxes,  and  to  con¬ 
form  to  the  common  sense  of  mankind. f 

It  was  with  perfect  truth  observed  by  my  excellent 
friend  Mr  Stewart,  that  “  the  ethical  principles  of  Hobbes 
are  completely  interwoven  with  his  political  system. 

He  might  have  said,  that  the  whole  of  Hobbes’s  system, 
moral,  religious,  and  in  part  philosophical,  depended  on 
his  political  scheme  ;  not  indeed  logically,  as  conclusions 
depend  on  premises,  but  (if  the  word  may  be  excused) 
psychologically ,  as  the  formation  of  one  opinion  may  be 
influenced  by  a  disposition  to  adapt  it  to  previously 
cherished  opinions.  The  translation  of  Thucydides,  as 


*  See  Dc  Carport  Politico,  Part  i.  chap.  ii.  iii.  iv.  and  Leviathan,  Part  i. 
chap.  xiv.  xv.  for  remarks  of  this  sort,  full  of  sagacity. 

j-  “  The  laws  of  nature  are  immutable  and  eternal;  for  injustice,  ingrati¬ 
tude,  arrogance,  pride,  iniquity,  acception  of  persons,  and  the  rest,  can 
never  be  made  lawful.  For  it  can  never  be  that  war  shall  preserve  life,  and 
peace  destroy  it.”  ( Leviathan ,  Parti,  chap.  xv.  See  also  Part  ii.  chap, 
xxvi.  xxviii.  on  Laws,  and  on  Punishments.) 

+  See  Dissertation  First,  p.  42.  The  political  state  of  England  is  indeed 
said  by  himself  to  have  occasioned  his  first  philosophical  publication. 

Nascitur  interea  scelus  execrabile  belli. 

. Horreo  spectans, 

Meque  ad  dilectam  confero  Lutetiam, 

Postque  duos  annos  edo  De  Cive  Libellum.  (  Vita  Hobbesii. ) 


ETHICAL,  PHILOSOPHY. 


61 


he  himself  boasts,  was  published  to  show  the  evils  of 
popular  government.*  Men  he  represented  as  being 
originally  equal,  and  having  an  equal  right  to  all  things, 
but  as  being  taught  by  reason  to  sacrifice  this  right  for 
the  advantages  of  peace,  and  to  submit  to  a  common  au¬ 
thority,  which  can  preserve  quiet,  only  by  being  the 
sole  depositary  of  force,  and  must  therefore  be  absolute 
and  unlimited.  The  supreme  authority  cannot  be  suffi¬ 
cient  for  its  purpose,  unless  it  be  wielded  by  a  single 
hand  ;  nor  even  then,  unless  his  absolute  power  extends 
over  religion,  which  may  prompt  men  to  discord  by  the 
fear  of  an  evil  greater  than  death.  The  perfect  state  of 
a  community,  according  to  him,  is  where  law  prescribes 
the  religion  and  morality  of  the  people,  and  where  the 
will  of  an  absolute  sovereign  is  the  sole  fountain  of  law. 
Hooker  had  inculcated  the  simple  truth,  that  <(  to  live 
by  one  man’s  will,  is  the  cause  of  many  men’s  misery.” 
Hobbes  embraced  the  daring  paradox,  that  to  live  by 
one  man’s  will  is  the  only  means  of  all  men’s  happiness. 
Having  thus  rendered  religion  the  slave  of  every  human 
tyrant,  it  was  an  unavoidable  consequence,  that  he  should 
be  disposed  to  lower  her  character,  and  lessen  her  power 
over  men ;  that  he  should  regard  atheism  as  the  most  ef¬ 
fectual  instrument  of  preventing  rebellion  ;  at  least  that 
species  of  rebellion  which  prevailed  in  his  time,  and  had 
excited  his  alarms.  The  formidable  alliance  of  religion 
with  liberty  haunted  his  mind,  and  urged  him  to  the 
bold  attempt  of  rooting  out  both  these  mighty  principles ; 
which,  when  combined  with  interests  and  passions,  when 
debased  by  impure  support,  and  provoked  by  unjust  re¬ 
sistance,  have  indeed  the  power  of  fearfully  agitating  so - 

*  The  speech  of  Euphemus,  in  the  6th  book  of  that  historian,  and  the 
conference  between  the  ministers  from  Athens  and  the  Melean  chiefs,  in  the 
5th  book,  exhibit  an  undisguised  Hobbism,  which  was  very  dramatically  put 
into  the  mouth  of  Athenian  statesmen  at  a  time  when,  as  we  learn  from 
Tlato  and  Aristophanes,  it  was  preached  by  the  Sophists. 


62 


PROGRESS  OP 


ciety  ;  but  which  are,  nevertheless,  in  their  own  nature, 
and  as  far  as  they  are  unmixed  and  undisturbed,  the 
fountains  of  justice,  of  order,  of  peace,  as  well  as  of  those 
moral  hopes,  and  of  those  glorious  aspirations  after 
higher  excellence,  which  encourage  and  exalt  the  soul  in 
its  passage  through  misery  and  depravity.  A  Hobbist  is 
the  only  consistent  persecutor ;  for  he  alone  considers 
himself  as  bound,  by  whatever  conscience  he  has  remain¬ 
ing,  to  conform  to  the  religion  of  the  sovereign.  He 
claims  from  others  no  more  than  he  is  himself  ready  to 
yield  to  any  master  ;*  while  the  religionist  who  per¬ 
secutes  a  member  of  another  communion,  exacts  the 
sacrifice  of  conscience  and  sincerity,  though  professing 
that,  rather  than  make  it  himself,  he  is  prepared  to  die. 

REMARKS. 

The  fundamental  errors  on  which  the  ethical  system 
of  Hobbes  is  built  are  not  peculiar  to  him  ;  though  he 
has  stated  them  with  a  bolder  precision,  and  placed  them 
in  a  more  conspicuous  station  in  the  van  of  his  main  force, 
than  any  other  of  those  who  have  either  frankly  avowed 
or  tacitly  assumed  them,  from  the  beginning  of  specula¬ 
tion  to  the  present  moment.  They  may  be  shortly  stated 
as  follows. 

1.  The  first  and  most  inveterate  of  these  errors  is,  that 

*  Spinoza  adopted  precisely  the  same  first  principle  with  Hobbes,  that 
all  men  have  a  natural  right  to  all  things.  ( Tractatus  Politicus,  cap .  ii.  sect. 
3.)  He  even  avows  the  absurd  and  detestable  maxim,  that  states  are  not 
bound  to  observe  their  treaties  longer  than  the  interest  or  danger  which  first 
formed  the  treaties  continues.  But  on  the  internal  constitution  of  states  he 
embraces  opposite  opinions.  Servitutis  enim  non  pacis  interest  omnem  po- 
testatem  ad  unurn  transferre.  (Ibid.  cap.  vi.  sect.  4.)  Limited  monarchy 
he  considers  as  the  only  tolerable  example  of  that  species  of  government. 
An  aristocracy  nearly  approaching  to  the  Dutch  system  during  the  suspen¬ 
sion  of  the  Stadtholdership,  he  seems  to  prefer.  He  speaks  favourably  of 
democracy,  but  the  chapter  on  that  subject  is  left  unfinished.  “  Nulla  plane 
templa  urbium  sumptibus  sediftcanda,  nec  jura  de  opinionibus  statuenda.” 
He  was  the  first  republican  atheist  of  modern  times,  and  probably  the  ear¬ 
liest  irreligious  opponent  of  an  ecclesiastical  establishment. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


63 


he  does  not  distinguish  thought  from  feeling ,  or  rather 
that  he  in  express  words  confounds  them.  The  mere 
perception  of  an  object,  according  to  him,  differs  from 
the  pleasure  or  pain  which  that  perception  may  occa¬ 
sion,  no  otherwise  than  as  they  affect  different  organs  of 
the  bodily  frame.  The  action  of  the  mind  in  perceiv¬ 
ing  or  conceiving  an  object  is  precisely  the  same  with 
that  of  feeling  the  agreeable  or  disagreeable.*  The 
necessary  result  of  this  original  confusion  is,  to  extend 
the  laws  of  the  intellectual  part  of  our  nature  over  that 
other  part  of  it,  hitherto  without  any  adequate  name, 
which  feels,  and  desires,  and  loves,  and  hopes,  and  wills. 
In  consequence  of  this  long  confusion,  or  want  of  dis¬ 
tinction,  it  has  happened  that,  while  the  simplest  act  of 
the  merely  intellectual  part  has  many  names,  (such  as 
sensation,  perception,  impression,  &c.)  the  correspon¬ 
dent  act  of  the  other  not  less  important  portion  of  man  is 
not  denoted  by  a  technical  term  in  philosophical  systems; 
nor  by  a  convenient  word  in  common  language.  Sen¬ 
sation  has  another  more  common  sense.  Emotion  is 
too  warm  for  a  generic  term.  Feeling  has  some  degree 
of  the  same  fault,  besides  its  liability  to  confusion  with 
the  sense  of  touch.  Pleasure  and  pain  represent  only 
two  properties  of  this  act,  which  render  its  repetition 
the  object  of  desire  or  aversion ;  which  last  states  of 


*  This  doctrine  is  explained  by  his  tract  on  Human  Nature,  c.  vii. — x. 
“  Conception  is  a  motion  in  some  internal  substance  of  the  head,  which  pro¬ 
ceeding  to  the  heart,  when  it  helpeththe  motion  there,  it  is  called  pleasure,- 
when  it  weakeneth  or  hindereth  the  motion,  it  is  called  jocwra.”  The  same 
matter  is  handled  more  cursorily,  agreeably  to  the  practical  purpose  of  the 
work,  in  Leviathan,  Part  i.  chap.  vi.  These  passages  are  here  referred  to 
as  proofs  of  the  statement  in  the  text.  With  the  materialism  of  it  we  have 
here  no  concern.  If  the  multiplied  suppositions  were  granted,  we  should 
not  advance  one  step  towards  understanding  what  they  profess  to  explain. 
The  first  four  words  are  as  unmeaning  as  if  one  were  to  say  that  greatness  is 
very  loud.  It  is  obvious  that  many  motions  which  promote  the  motion  of 
the  heart  are  extremely  painful. 


64 


PROGRESS  OF 


mind  presuppose  the  act.  Of  these  words,  emotion 
seems  to  be  the  least  objectionable,  since  it  has  no  abso¬ 
lute  double  meaning,  and  does  not  require  so  much  vigi¬ 
lance  in  the  choice  of  the  accompanying  words  as  would 
be  necessary  if  we  were  to  prefer  feeling  ;  which,  how¬ 
ever,  being  a  more  familiar  word,  may,  with  due  caution, 
be  also  sometimes  employed.  Every  man  who  attends 
to  the  state  of  his  own  mind  will  acknowledge,  that  these 
words,  emotion  and  feeling ,  thus  used,  are  perfectly  sim¬ 
ple,  and  as  incapable  of  further  explanation  by  words  as 
sight  or  hearing  ;  which  may  indeed  be  rendered  into 
synonymous  words,  but  never  can  be  defined  by  any 
more  simple  or  more  clear.  Reflection  will  in  like  man¬ 
ner  teach  that  perception,  reasoning,  and  judgment  may 
be  conceived  to  exist  without  being  followed  by  emotion. 
Some  men  hear  music  without  gratification  :  one  may 
distinguish  a  taste  without  being  pleased  or  displeased  by 
it ;  or  at  least  the  relish  or  disrelish  is  often  so  slight, 
without  lessening  the  distinctness  of  the  sapid  qualities, 
that  the  distinction  of  it  from  the  perception  cannot  be 
doubted. 

The  multiplicity  of  errors  which  have  flowed  into 
moral  science  from  this  original  confusion  is  very  great. 
They  have  spread  over  many  schools  of  philosophy ;  and 
many  of  them  are  prevalent  to  this  day.  Hence  the 
laws  of  the  understanding  have  been  applied  to  the 
affections ;  virtuous  feelings  have  been  considered  as 
just  reasoning  ;  evil  passions  represented  as  mistaken 
judgments  ;  and  it  has  been  laid  down  as  a  principle,  that 
the  will  always  follows  the  last  decision  of  the  practical 
intellect.* 

2.  By  this  great  error,  Hobbes  was  led  to  represent 
all  the  variety  of  the  desires  of  men,  as  being  only  so 
many  instances  of  objects  deliberately  and  solely  pursued; 


*  “  Voluntas  semper  sequitur  ultimum  indicium  intellectus  practici.” 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


65 


because  they  were  the  means,  and  at  the  time  perceived 
to  be  so,  of  directly  or  indirectly  procuring  organic 
gratification  to  the  individual.*-  The  human  passions 
are  described  as  if  they  reasoned  accurately,  deliberated 
coolly,  and  calculated  exactly.  It  is  assumed  that,  in 
performing  these  operations,  there  is  and  can  be  no  act 
of  life  in  which  a  man  does  not  bring  distinctly  before  his 
eyes  the  pleasure  which  is  to  accrue  to  himself  from  the 
act.  From  this  single  and  simple  principle,  all  human 
conduct  may,  according  to  him,  be  explained  and  even 
foretold. 

The  true  laws  of  this  part  of  our  nature  (so  totally 
different  from  those  of  the  percipient  part)  were,  by  this 
grand  mistake,  entirely  withdrawn  from  notice.  Simple 
as  the  observation  is,  it  seems  to  have  escaped  not  only 
Hobbes,  but  many,  perhaps  most  philosophers,  that  our 
desires  seek  a  great  diversity  of  objects;  that  the  attain¬ 
ment  of  these  objects  is  indeed  followed  by,  or  rather 
called  pleasures  ;  but  that  it  could  not  be  so,  if  the  ob¬ 
jects  had  not  been  previously  desired.  Many  besides 
him  have  really  represented  self  as  the  ultimate  object 
of  every  action  ;  but  none  ever  so  hardily  thrust  forward 
the  selfish  system  in  its  harshest  and  coarsest  shape.  The 
mastery  which  he  shows  over  other  metaphysical  subjects, 
forsakes  him  on  this.  He  does  not  scruple,  for  the  sake  of 
this  system,  to  distort  facts  of  which  all  men  are  conscious; 
and  to  do  violence  to  the  language  in  which  the  result 
of  their  uniform  experience  is  conveyed.  “  Acknowledg¬ 
ment  of  power  is  called  honour. His  explanations 
are  frequently  sufficient  confutations  of  the  doctrine 
which  required  them.  “  Pity  is  the  imagination  of  future 
calamity  to  ourselves,  proceeding  from  the  sense  (obser- 

*  See  the  passages  before  quoted. 

f  Human  Nature,  chap.  viii.  The  ridiculous  explanation  of  the  admiration 
of  personal  beauty,  “as  a  sign  of  power  generative,”  shows  the  difficulties 
to  which  this  extraordinary  man  was  reduced  by  a  false  system. 

I 


66 


PROGRESS  OP 


vation)  of  another  man’s  calamity.”  i(  Laughter  is  oc¬ 
casioned  by  sudden  glory  in  our  eminence,  or  in  com¬ 
parison  with  the  infirmity  of  others.”  Every  man  who 
ever  wept  or  laughed,  may  determine  whether  this  be 
a  true  account  of  the  state  of  his  mind  on  either  occasion. 
“  Love  is  a  conception  of  his  need  of  the  one  person  de¬ 
sired  ;”  a  definition  of  love,  which,  as  it  excludes  kind¬ 
ness,  might  perfectly  well  comprehend  the  hunger  of  a 
cannibal,  provided  that  it  were  not  too  ravenous  to  ex¬ 
clude  choice.  “Good-will,  or  charity,  which  containeth 
the  natural  affection  of  parents  to  their  children,  consists 
in  a  man's  conception  that  he  is  able  not  only  to  accom¬ 
plish  his  own  desires,  but  to  assist  other  men  in  theirs:” 
from  which  it  follows,  as  the  pride  of  power  is  felt  in 
destroying  as  well  as  in  saving  men,  that  cruelty  and 
kindness  are  the  same  passion.* 

Such  were  the  expedients  to  which  a  man  of  the 
highest  class  of  understanding  was  driven,  in  order  to 
evade  the  admission  of  the  simple  and  evident  truth, 
that  there  are  in  our  nature  perfectly  disinterested  pas¬ 
sions,  which  seek  the  wellbeing  of  others  as  their  object 
and  end,  without  looking  beyond  it  to  self,  or  pleasure, 
or  happiness.  A  proposition,  from  which  such  a  man 
could  attempt  to  escape  only  by  such  means,  may  be 
strongly  presumed  to  be  true. 

3.  Hobbes  having  thus  struck  the  affections  out  of  his 
map  of  human  nature,  and  having  totally  misunderstood 
(as  will  appear  in  a  succeeding  part  of  this  Dissertation) 
the  nature  even  of  the  appetites,  it  is  no  wonder  that  we 
should  find  in  it  not  a  trace  of  the  moral  sentiments.  Moral 
goodf  he  considers  merely  as  consisting  in  the  signs  of  a 

•  Ibid.  chap.  ix.  I  forbear  to  quote  the  passage  on  Platonic  love,  which 
immediately  follows.  But,  considering  Hobbes’s  blameless  and  honourable 
character,  that  passage  is  perhaps  the  most  remarkable  instance  of  the 
shifts  to  which  his  selfish  system  reduced  him. 

t  Which  he  calls  the  pulchrum,  for  want,  as  he  says,  of  an  English  word 
to  express  it.  ( Leviathan ,  Part  i.  c.  vi. ) 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


67 


power  to  produce  pleasure  ;  and  repentance  is  no  more 
than  regret  at  having  missed  the  way :  so  that,  according 
to  this  system,  a  disinterested  approbation  of,  and  rever¬ 
ence  for  virtue,  are  no  more  possible  than  disinterested 
affections  towards  our  fellow  creatures.  There  is  no  sense 
of  duty,  no  compunction  for  our  own  offences,  no  indig¬ 
nation  against  the  crimes  of  others,  unless  they  affect  our 
own  safety  ;  no  secret  cheerfulness  shed  over  the  heart 
by  the  practice  of  welldoing.  From  his  philosophical 
writings  it  would  be  impossible  to  conclude  that  there 
are  in  man  a  set  of  emotions,  desires,  and  aversions,  of 
which  the  sole  and  final  objects  are  the  voluntary  actions 
and  habitual  dispositions  of  himself  and  of  all  other  vol¬ 
untary  agents  ;  which  are  properly  called  Moral  Senti¬ 
ments  ;  and  which,  though  they  vary  more  in  degree, 
and  depend  more  on  cultivation,  than  some  other  parts 
of  human  nature,  are  as  seldom  as  most  of  them  found  to 
be  entirely  wanting. 

4.  A  theory  of  man  which  comprehends  in  its  expla¬ 
nations  neither  the  social  affections,  nor  the  moral  senti¬ 
ments,  must  be  owned  to  be  sufficiently  defective.  It  is 
a  consequence,  or  rather  a  modification  of  it,  that  Hob¬ 
bes  should  constantly  represent  the  deliberate  regard  to 
personal  advantage,  as  the  only  possible  motive  of  human 
action ;  and  that  he  should  altogether  disdain  to  avail 
himself  of  those  refinements  of  the  selfish  scheme  which 
allow  the  pleasures  of  benevolence  and  morality,  them¬ 
selves,  to  be  a  most  important  part  of  that  interest  which 
reasonable  beings  pursue. 

5.  Lastly,  though  Hobbes  does  in  effect  acknowledge 
the  necessity  of  morals  to  society,  and  the  general  coinci¬ 
dence  of  individual  with  public  interest — truths  so  pal-, 
pable  that  they  never  have  been  excluded  from  any. 
ethical  system — he  betrays  his  utter  want  of  moral  sensi¬ 
bility  by  the  coarse  and  odious  form  in  which  he  has 
presented  the  first  of  these  great  principles  ;  and  his 


68 


PROGRESS  OF 


view  of  both,  leads  him  most  strongly  to  support  that 
common  and  pernicious  error  of  moral  reasoners,  that  a 
perception  of  the  tendency  of  good  actions  to  preserve 
the  being  and  promote  the  wellbeing  of  the  community, 
and  a  sense  of  the  dependence  of  our  own  happiness 
upon  the  general  security,  either  are  essential  constitu¬ 
ents  of  our  moral  feelings,  or  are  ordinarily  mingled  with 
the  most  effectual  motives  to  right  conduct. 

The  court  of  Charles  II.  were  equally  pleased  with 
Hobbes’s  poignant  brevity,  and  his  low  estimate  of 
human  motives.  His  ethical  epigrams  became  the  cur¬ 
rent  coin  of  profligate  wits.  Sheffield,  Duke  of  Buck¬ 
inghamshire,  who  represented  the  class  still  more  per¬ 
fectly  in  his  morals  than  in  his  faculties,  has  expressed 
their  opinion  inverses,  of  which  one  line  is  good  enough 
to  be  quoted. 

Fame  bears  no  fruit  till  the  vain  planter  dies. 

Dryden  speaks  of  u  the  philosopher  and  poet  (for  such 
is  the  condescending  term  employed)  of  Malmesbury,” 
as  resembling  Lucretius  in  haughtiness.  But  Lucretius, 
though  he  held  many  of  the  opinions  of  Hobbes,  had  the 
sensibility  as  well  as  genius  of  a  poet.  His  dogmatism 
is  full  of  enthusiasm  ;  and  his  philosophical  theory  of  so¬ 
ciety  discovers  occasionally  as  much  tenderness  as  can  be 
shown  without  reference  to  individuals.  He  was  a  Hob- 
bist  in  only  half  his  nature. 

The  moral  and  political  system  of  Hobbes  was  a  palace 
of  ice,  transparent,  exactly  proportioned,  majestic,  ad¬ 
mired  by  the  unwary  as  a  delightful  dwelling  ;  but 
gradually  undermined  by  the  central  warmth  of  human 
feeling,  before  it  was  thawed  into  muddy  water  by  the 
sunshine  of  true  philosophy. 

When  Leibnitz,  in  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  reviewed  the  moral  writers  of  modern  times, 
his  penetrating  eye  saw  only  two  who  were  capable  of 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


69 


reducing  morals  and  jurisprudence  to  a  science.  “  So 
great  an  enterprise/7  says  he  i(  might  have  been  executed 
by  the  deep-searching  genius  of  Hobbes,  if  he  had  not 
set  out  from  evil  principles  ;  or  by  the  judgment  and 
learning  of  the  incomparable  Grotius,  if  his  powers  had 
not  been  scattered  over  many  subjects,  and  his  mind 
distracted  by  the  cares  of  an  agitated  life.77*  Perhaps  in 
this  estimate,  admiration  of  the  various  and  excellent 
qualities  of  Grotius  may  have  overrated  his  purely  philo¬ 
sophical  powers,  great  as  they  unquestionably  were. 
Certainly  the  failure  of  Hobbes  was  owing  to  no  inferior¬ 
ity  in  strength  of  intellect.  Probably  his  fundamental 
errors  may  be  imputed,  in  part,  to  the  faintness  of  his 
moral  sensibilities,  insufficient  to  make  him  familiar  with 
those  sentiments  and  affections  which  can  be  known  only 
by  being  felt ; — a  faintness  perfectly  compatible  with 
his  irreproachable  life,  but  which  obstructed,  and  at 
last  obliterated,  the  only  channel  through  which  the  most 
important  materials  of  ethical  science  enter  into  the 
mind. 

Against  Hobbes,  says  YVarburton,  the  whole  church 
militant  took  up  arms.  The  answers  to  the  Leviathan 
would  form  a  library.  But  the  far  greater  part  have 
followed  the  fate  of  all  controversial  pamphlets.  Sir 
Robert  Filmer  was  jealous  of  any  rival  theory  of  servi¬ 
tude.  Harrington  defended  liberty,  and  Clarendon  the 
church,  against  a  common  enemy.  His  philosophical 
antagonists  were,  Cumberland,  Cudworth,  Shaftesbury, 
Clarke,  Butler,  and  Hutcheson.  Though  the  last  four 
writers  cannot  be  considered  as  properly  polemics,  their 
labours  were  excited,  and  their  doctrines  modified,  by 
the  stroke  from  a  vigorous  arm  which  seemed  to  shake 

•  “  Et  tale  aliquid  potuisset  velab  incomparabilis  Grotii  judicio  et  doc- 
trina,  vel  a  profundo  Hobbii  ingenio  praestari;  nisi  ilium  multadistraxissent; 
hie  vero  prava  constituisset  principia.”  (Leibi«tii  Epist.  ad  Molanum  ; 
IV.  Pars  iii.  p.  276.) 


70 


PROGRESS  OF 


N 


Ethics  to  its  foundation.  They  lead  us  far  into  the  eigh¬ 
teenth  century;  and  their  works,  occasioned  by  the  d  c- 
trines  of  Hobbes,  sowed  the  seed  of  the  ethical  writings 
of  Hume,  Smith,  Price,  Kant,  and  Stewart;  in  a  less  de¬ 
gree,  also,  of  those  of  Tucker  and  Paley  :  not  to  men¬ 
tion  Mandeville,  the  buffoon  and  sophister  of  the  ale¬ 
house;  or  Helvetius,  an  ingenious  but  flimsy  writer,  the 
low  and  loose  moralist  of  the  vain,  the  selfish,  and  the 
sensual. 


SECTION  V. 


Controversies  concerning  the  Moral  Faculties  and  the 

Social  Affections . 

CUMBERLAND - CUDWORTH - CLARKE - SHAFTESBURY 

- BOSSUET - FENELON - LEIBNITZ - MALEBRANCHE 

- EDWARDS - BUFFIER. 

Dr  Richard  Cumberland,*  raised  to  the  see  of 
Peterborough  after  the  revolution  of  1688,  was  the  only 
professed  answerer  of  Hobbes.  His  work  on  the  Law 
of  JVature  still  retains  a  place  on  the  shelf,  though 
not  often  on  the  desk.  The  philosophical  epigrams  of 
Hobbes  form  a  contrast  to  the  verbose,  prolix,  and 
languid  diction  of  his  answerer.  The  forms  of  scho¬ 
lastic  argument  serve  more  to  encumber  his  style  than 
to  insure  his  exactness.  But  he  has  substantial  me¬ 
rits.  He  justly  observes,  that  all  men  can  only  be 
said  to  have  had  originally  a  right  to  all  things,  in  a 
sense  in  which  right  has  the  same  meaning  with  power. 
He  shows  that  Hobbes  is  at  variance  with  himself;  inas- 


*  Born  in  1632,  died  in  1718. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


71 


much  as  the  dictates  of  right  reason,  which,  by  his  own 
statement,  teach  men  for  their  own  safety  to  forego  the 
exercise  of  that  right,  and  which  he  calls  Laws  of  Na¬ 
ture ,  are  coeval  with  it;  and  that  mankind  perceive  the 
moral  limits  of  their  power  as  clearly  and  as  soon  as  they 
are  conscious  of  its  existence.  He  enlarges  the  intima¬ 
tions  of  Grotius  on  the  social  feelings,  which  prompt 
men  to  the  pleasures  of  pacific  intercourse,  as  certainly 
as  the  apprehension  of  danger  and  destruction  urges 
them  to  avoid  hostility.  The  fundamental  principle  of 
his  ethics  is,  that  “  the  greatest  benevolence  of  every 
rational  agent  to  all  others  is  the  happiest  state  of  each 
individual,  as  well  as  of  the  whole. The  happiness 
accruing  to  each  man  from  the  observance  and  cultiva¬ 
tion  of  benevolence,  he  considers  as  appended  to  it  by  the 
supreme  Ruler;  through  which  he  sanctions  it  as  his  law, 
and  reveals  it  to  the  mind  of  every  reasonable  creature. 
From  this  principle  he  deduces  the  rules  of  morality, 
which  he  calls  the  Laws  of  Nature.  The  surest,  or  rather 
only  mark  that  they  are  the  commandments  of  God, 
is,  that  their  observance  promotes  the  happiness  of  man: 
for  that  reason  alone  could  they  be  imposed  by  that  Being 
whose  essence  is  love.  As  our  moral  faculties  must  to  us 
be  the  measure  of  all  moral  excellence,  he  infers  that  the 
moral  attributes  of  the  Divinity  must  in  their  nature  be 
only  a  transcendent  degree  of  those  qualities  which  we 
most  approve,  love,  and  revere,  in  those  moral  agents  with 
whom  we  are  familiar. f  He  had  a  momentary  glimpse 
of  the  possibility  that  some  human  actions  might  be  per¬ 
formed  with  a  view  to  the  happiness  of  others,  without 
any  consideration  of  the  pleasure  reflected  back  on  our¬ 
selves. I  But  it  is  too  faint  and  transient  to  be  worthy 

*  Cumberland  de  Legibus  Natures,  cap.  i.  sect.  12,  first  published  in  Lon¬ 
don,  1672,  and  then  so  popular  as  to  be  reprinted  at  Lubeck  in  1683. 

f  Ibid.  cap.  v.  sect.  19. 

$  Ibid.  cap.  ii.  sect.  20, 


72 


PROGRESS  OF 


of  observation,  otherwise  than  as  a  new  proof  how  often 
great  truths  must  flit  before  the  understanding,  before 
they  can  be  firmly  and  finally  held  in  its  grasp.  His 
only  attempt  to  explain  the  nature  of  the  moral  faculty, 
is  the  substitution  of  practical  reason  (a  phrase  of  the 
schoolmen,  since  become  celebrated  from  its  renewal  by 
Kant)  for  right  reason;*  and  his  definition  of  the  first, 
as  that  which  points  out  the  ends  and  means  of  action. 
Throughout  his  whole  reasoning,  he  adheres  to  the  ac¬ 
customed  confusion  of  the  quality  which  renders  actions 
virtuous,  with  the  sentiments  excited  in  us  by  the  con¬ 
templation  of  them.  His  language  on  the  identity  of  gen¬ 
eral  and  individual  interest  is  extremely  vague;  though 
it  be,  as  he  says,  the  foundation-stone  of  the  Temple  of 
Concord  among  men. 

It  is  little  wonder  that  Cumberland  should  not  have 
disembroiled  this  ancient  and  established  confusion,  since 
Leibnitz  himself,  in  a  passage  where  he  reviews  the  the¬ 
ories  of  morals  which  had  gone  before  him,  has  done  his 
utmost  to  perpetuate  it.  “It  is  a  question,'’  says  he, 
ii  whether  the  preservation  of  human  society  be  the  first 
principle  of  the  law  of  nature.  This  our  author  denies, 
in  opposition  to  Grotius,  who  laid  down  sociability  to  be 
so;  to  Hobbes,  who  ascribed  that  character  to  mutual 
fear;  and  to  Cumberland,  who  held  that  it  was  mutual 
benevolence  ;  which  are  all  three  only  different  names 
for  the  safety  and  welfare  of  society. ”f  Here  the  great 


*  Whoever  determines  his  judgment  and  his  will  by  right  reason,  must 
agree  with  all  others  who  judge  according  to  right  reason  in  the  same  mat¬ 
ter.”  [Ibid.  cap.  ii.  sect.  8. )  This  is  in  one  sense  only  a  particular  instance 
of  the  identical  proposition,  that  two  things  which  agree  with  a  third  thing 
must  agree  with  each  other  in  that  in  which  they  agree  with  the  third. 
But  the  difficulty  entirely  consists  in  the  particular  third  thing  here  intro¬ 
duced,  namely,  “right  reason,”  the  nature  of  which  not  one  step  is  made  to 
explain.  The  position  is  curious,  as  coinciding  with  “  the  universal  cate¬ 
gorical  imperative,”  adopted  as  a  first  principle  by  Kant. 

j-  Leibx.  IV.  Pars  iii.  p.  271.  The  unnamed  work  which  occasioned 
these  remarks  (perhaps  one  of  Thomasius)  appeared  in  1699.  How  long 
after  this  Leibnitz’s  Dissertation  was  written,  does  not  appear. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


73 


philosopher  considered  benevolence  or  fear,  two  feelings 
of  the  human  mind,  to  be  the  first  principles  of  the  law 
of  nature  ;  in  the  same  sense  in  which  the  tendency  of 
certain  actions  to  the  well  being  of  the  community  may 
be  so  regarded.  The  confusion,  however,  was  then 
common  to  him  with  many,  as  it  even  now  is  with  most. 
The  comprehensive  view  was  his  own.  He  perceives 
the  close  resemblance  of  these  various  and  even  conflict¬ 
ing  opinions,  in  that  important  point  of  view  in  which 
they  relate  to  the  effects  of  moral  and  immoral  actions 
on  the  general  interest.  The  tendency  of  virtue  to  pre¬ 
serve  amicable  intercourse  was  enforced  by  Grotius;  its 
tendency  to  prevent  injury  was  dwelt  on  by  Hobbes;  its 
tendency  to  promote  an  interchange  of  benefits  was  in¬ 
culcated  by  Cumberland. 

CUDWORTH.* 

Cudworth,  one  of  the  eminent  men  educated  or  pro¬ 
moted  in  the  English  Universities  during  the  Puritan 
rule,  was  one  of  the  most  distinguished  of  the  Latitudi- 
narian  or  Arminian  party  who  came  forth  at  the  Resto¬ 
ration,  with  a  love  of  liberty  imbibed  from  their  Calvi- 
nistic  masters,  as  well  as  from  the  writings  of  antiquity, 
yet  tempered  by  the  experience  of  their  own  agitated 
age ;  and  with  a  spirit  of  religious  toleration  more  im¬ 
partial  and  mature,  though  less  systematic  and  professed¬ 
ly  comprehensive,  than  that  of  the  Independents,  the  first 
sect  who  preached  that  doctrine.  Taught  by  the  errors 
of  their  time,  they  considered  religion  as  consisting,  not 
in  vain  efforts  to  explain  unsearchable  mysteries,  but  in 
purity  of  heart  exalted  by  pious  feelings,  and  manifested 
by  virtuous  conduct,  f  The  government  of  the  church 

*  Born  in  1617;  died  in  1688. 

|  See  the  beautiful  account  of  them  by  Burnet,  {Hist.  I.  321,  Oxford 
edit.  183*)  who  was  himself  one  of  the  most  distinguished  of  this  excellent 
body;  with  whom  may  be  classed,  notwithstanding  some  shades  of  doctrinal 

K 


74 


PROGRESS  OF 


was  placed  in  their  hands  by  the  revolution,  and  their 
influence  was  long  felt  among  its  rulers  and  luminaries. 
The  first  generation  of  their  scholars  turned  their  atten¬ 
tion  too  much  from  the  cultivation  of  the  heart  to  the 
mere  government  of  outward  action  ;  and  in  succeeding 
times  the  tolerant  spirit,  not  natural  to  an  establishment, 
was  with  difficulty  kept  up  by  a  government  whose  ex¬ 
istence  depended  on  discouraging  intolerant  pretensions. 
No  sooner  had  the  first  sketch  of  the  Hobbian  philoso¬ 
phy*  been  privately  circulated  at  Paris,  than  Cudworth 
seized  the  earliest  opportunity  of  sounding  the  alarm 
against  the  most  justly  odious  of  the  modes  of  thinking 
which  it  cultivates,  or  forms  of  expression  which  it  would 
introduce  the  prelude  to  a  war  which  occupied  the 
remaining  forty  years  of  his  life.  The  Intellectual  Sys¬ 
tem,  his  great  production,  is  directed  against  the  atheis¬ 
tical  opinions  of  Hobbes  :  it  touches  ethical  questions 
but  occasionally  and  incidentally.  It  is  a  work  of  stu¬ 
pendous  erudition,  of  much  more  acuteness  than  at  first 
appears,  of  frequent  mastery  over  diction  and  illustration 
on  subjects  where  it  is  most  rare  ;  and  it  is  distinguished, 
perhaps  beyond  any  other  volume  of  controversy,  by 
that  best  proof  of  the  deepest  conviction  of  the  truth  of 
a  man’s  principles,  a  fearless  statement  of  the  most  for¬ 
midable  objections  to  them;  a  fairness  rarely  practised 
but  by  him  who  is  conscious  of  his  power  to  answer  them. 


difference,  liis  early  master,  Leighton,  bishop  of  Dunblane,  a  beautiful  wri¬ 
ter,  and  one  of  the  best  of  men.  The  earliest  account  of  them  is  in  a  curi¬ 
ous  contemporary  pamphlet,  entitled,  An  Account  of  the  new  Sect  of  Latitude- 
men  at  Cambridge ,  republished  in  the  collection  of  tracts  entitled,  Phoenix 
Britannicus.  Jeremy  Taylor  deserves  the  highest  and  perhaps  the  earliest 
place  among  them.  But  Cudworth’s  excellent  sermon  before  the  House  of 
Commons  (31st  March  1647)  in  the  year  of  the  publication  of  Taylor’s  Lib¬ 
erty  of  Prophesying,  may  be  compared  even  to  Taylor  in  charity,  piety,  and 
the  most  liberal  toleration. 

*  Be  Cive,  1642. 

f  Dantur  I  ni  et  mali  rationes  setemae  et  indispensabiles.  Thesis  for  the 
degree  of  B.  D-  at  Cambridge  in  1644.  (Birch’s  Life  of  Cudworth,  prefixed 
to  bisedition  of  the  Intellectual  System,  p.  vii.  Lond.  1743,  2  vols.  4to.) 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


75 


In  all  his  writings,  it  must  be  owned,  that  his  learning 
obscures  his  reasonings,  and  seems  even  to  oppress  his 
powerful  intellect.  It  is  an  unfortunate  effect  of  the  re¬ 
dundant  fulness  of  his  mind,  that  it  overflows  in  endless 
digressions,  which  break  the  chain  of  argument,  and  turn 
aside  the  thoughts  of  the  reader  from  the  main  object. 
He  was  educated  before  usage  had  limited  the  naturali¬ 
zation  of  new  words  from  the  learned  languages  ;  before 
the  failure  of  those  great  men,  from  Bacon  to  Milton, 
who  laboured  to  follow  a  Latin  order  in  their  sentences, 
— and  the  success  of  those  men  of  inferior  powers,  from 
Cowley  to  Addison,  who  were  content  with  the  order, 
as  well  as  the  words,  of  pure  and  elegant  conversation, 
— had,  as  it  were,  by  a  double  series  of  experiments,  as¬ 
certained  that  the  involutions  and  inversions  of  the  ancient 
languages  are  seldom  reconcilable  with  the  genius  of 
ours;  and,  unless  skilfully,  as  well  as  sparingly  introduc¬ 
ed,  are  at  variance  with  the  natural  beauties  of  our  prose 
composition.  His  mind  was  more  than  of  an  ancient  than 
of  a  modern  philosopher.  He  often  indulged  in  that 
sort  of  amalgamation  of  fancy  with  speculation,  the  de¬ 
light  of  the  Alexandrian  doctors,  with  whom  he  was  most 
familiarly  conversant  ;  and  the  Intellectual  System ,  both 
in  thought  and  expression,  has  an  old  and  foreign  air, 
not  unlike  a  translation  from  the  work  of  a  late  Plato- 
nist.  Large  ethical  works  of  this  eminent  writer  are 
extant  in  manuscript  in  the  British  Museum.*  One  pos¬ 
thumous  volume  on  morals  was  published  by  Dr  Chandler, 
bishop  of  Durham,  entitled,  A  Treatise  concerning  Eter¬ 
nal  and  Immutable  Morality. f  But  there  is  the  more 
reason  to  regret  (as  far  as  relates  to  the  history  of  opin¬ 
ion)  that  the  larger  treatises  are  still  unpublished,  be¬ 
cause  the  above  volume  is  not  so  much  an  ethical  trea- 

*  A  curious  account  of  the  history  of  these  MSS.  by  Dr  Kippis,  is  to  be: 
found  in  the  Biographia  Britannica,  IV.  549. 

f  London,  1731,  8vo. 


76 


PROGRESS  OF 


tise  as  an  introduction  to  one.  Protagoras  of  old,  and 
Hobbes  then  alive,  having  concluded  that  right  and 
wrong  were  unreal,  because  they  were  not  perceived 
by  the  senses,  and  because  all  human  knowledge  consists 
only  in  such  perception,  Cudworth  endeavours  to  refute 
them,  by  disproving  that  part  of  their  premises  which 
forms  the  last-stated  proposition.  The  mind  has  many 
conceptions  which  are  not  cognizable  by  the 

senses;  and  though  they  are  occasioned  by  sensible  ob¬ 
jects,  yet  could  not  be  formed  but  by  a  faculty  superior 
to  sense.  The  conceptions  of  justice  and  duty  he  places 
among  them.  The  distinction  of  right  from  wrong  is 
discerned  by  reason;  and  as  soon  as  these  words  are  de¬ 
fined,  it  becomes  evident  that  it  would  be  a  contradic¬ 
tion  in  terms  to  affirm  that  any  power,  human  or  divine, 
could  change  their  nature  ;  or,  in  other  words,  make  the 
same  act  to  be  just  and  unjust  at  the  same  time.  They 
had  existed  eternally,  in  the  only  mode  in  which  truths 
can  be  said  to  be  eternal,  in  the  Eternal  Mind;  and  they 
were  indestructible  and  unchangeable  like  that  Supreme 
Intelligence.* 

Whatever  judgment  may  be  formed  of  this  reasoning, 
it  is  manifest  that  it  relates  merely  to  the  philosophy  of 
the  understanding ,  and  does  not  attempt  any  explanation 
of  what  constitutes  the  very  essence  of  morality,  its  re¬ 
lation  to  the  will.  That  we  perceive  a  distinction  be¬ 
tween  right  and  wrong  as  much  as  between  a  triangle  and 


*  “There  are  many  objects  of  our  mind  which  we  can  neither  see,  hear, 
feel,  smell,  nor  taste,  and  which  never  did  enter  into  it  by  any  sense;  and 
therefore  we  can  have  no  sensible  pictures  or  ideas  of  them,  drawn  by  the 
pencil  of  that  inward  limner  or  painter  which  borrows  all  his  colours  from 
sense,  which  we  call  Fancy :  and  if  we  reflect  on  our  own  cogitations  of 
these  things,  we  shall  sensibly  perceive  that  they  are  not  phantastical,  but 
noematical:  as,  for  example,  justice,  equity,  duty  and  obligation,  cogitation, 
opinion,  intellection,  volition,  memory,  verity,  falsity,  cause,  effect,  genus, 
species,  nullity,  contingency,  possibility,  impossibility,  and  innumerable 
others.”  ( Eternal  and  Immutable  Morality ,  p.  140. )  We  have  here  an  an¬ 
ticipation  of  Kant. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


77 


a  square,  is  indeed  true;  and  may  possibly  lead  to  an  ex¬ 
planation  of  the  reason  why  men  should  adhere  to  the  one 
and  avoid  the  other.  But  it  is  not  that  reason.  A  com¬ 
mand  or  a  precept  is  not  a  proposition.  It  cannot  be 
said  that  either  is  true  or  false.  Cud  worth,  as  well  as 
many  who  succeeded  him,  confounded  the  mere  appre¬ 
hension  by  the  understanding  that  right  is  different  from 
wrfrg  j*vith  jdie  practical  authority  of  these  important 
c(H^t|^ions,  exercised  over  voluntary  actions,  in  a  totally 
distinct  province  of  the  human  soul. 

Thoifgh  his  life  was  devoted  to  the  assertion  of  divine 
Providence,  and  though  his  philosophy  was  imbued  with 
tjie  religious  spirit  of  Platonism,*  yet  he  had  placed 
Christianity  too  purely  in  the  love  of  God  and  man  to  be 
oonsidered  as  having  much  regard  for  those  controversies 
about  rites  and  opinions  with  which  zealots  disturb  the 
world.  They  represented  him  as  having  fallen  into  the 
same^her<|sy  with  Milton  and  with  Clarke;f  and  some  of 
them  even  charged  him  with  atheism,  for  no  other  rea¬ 
son  than  that  lie  was  was  not  afraid  to  state  the  atheistic 
difficulties  in  their  fullest  force.  As  blind  anger  heaps 
inconsistent  accusations  on  each  other,  they  called  him  at 
least  “an  Arian,  a  Socinian,  or  a  Deist. The  cour¬ 
tiers  of  Charles  II.,  who  were  delighted  with  every  part 
of  Hobbes  but  his  integrity,  did  their  utmost  to  decry 
his  antagonist.  They  turned  the  railing  of  the  bigots 
into  a  sarcasm  against  religion  ;  as  we  learn  from  him  who 
represented  them  with  unfortunate  fidelity.  “  He  has 
raised,”  saysDryden,  “  such  strong  objections  against  the 

*  E u<rtfiii,ce  t utvov,  o  ya.g  clk^cos  Be  pious,  my  son,  for 

piety  is  the  sum  of  Christianity.  (Motto  affixed  to  the  sermon  above  men¬ 
tioned.  ) 

•j-  The  following  doctrine  is  ascribed  to  Cudworth  by  Nelson,  a  man  of 
good  understanding  and  great  worth:  “Dr  Cudworth  maintained  that  the 
Father,  absolutely  speaking,  is  the  only  supreme  God;  the  Son  and  Spirit 
being  God  only  by  his  concurrence  with  them,  and  their  subordination  and 
subjection  to  him.”  (Nelson’s  Life  of  Bull ,  p.  339.) 

|  Tcthnsh’s  Discourse  on  the  Messiah,  p.  335.) 


78 


PROGRESS  OF 


being  of  God  .  that  many  think  he  has  not  answered  them;” 
— i(  the  common  fate,”*  as  Lord  Shaftesbury  tells  us, 
“  of  those  who  dare  to  appear  fair  authors.”*  He 
had,  indeed,  earned  the  hatred  of  some  theologians,  bet¬ 
ter  than  they  could  know  from  the  writings  published 
during  his  life;  for  in  his  posthumous  work  he  classes 
with  the  ancient  atheists  those  of  his  contemporaries, 
whom  he  forbears  to  name,  who  held  i(  that  God  may 
command  what  is  contrary  to  moral  rules;  that  he#has<fio 
inclination  to  the  good  of  his  creatures ;  that  he  may  just¬ 
ly  doom  an  innocent  being  to  eternal  torments;  and  that 
whatever  God  does  will,  for  that  reason  is  just,  because 
he  wills  it.”f  It  is  an  interesting  incident  in  the  life  of 
a  philosopher,  that  Cudworth’s  daughter,  Lady  Masham, 
had  the  honour  to  nurse  the  infirmities  and  to  watch  the 
last  breath  of  Mr  Locke,  who  was  opposed  to  her  father 
in  speculative  philosophy,  but  who  heartily  agreed  with 
him  in  the  love  of  truth,  liberty  and  virtue. 

CLARKE.  J 

Connected  with  Cudworth  by  principle,  though  se¬ 
parated  by  some  interval  of  time,  was  Dr  Samuel  Clarke, 
a  man  eminent  at  once  as  a  divine,  a  mathematician,  a 
metaphysical  philosopher,  and  a  philologer ;  who,  as  the 
interpreter  of  Homer  and  Caesar,  the  scholar  of  Newton, 
and  the  antagonist  of  Leibnitz,  approved  himself  not  un¬ 
worthy  of  correspondence  with  the  highest  order  of  hu- 


*  Moralists,  Part  ii.  sect.  3 . 

■j-  Eternal  and  Immutable  Morality,  p.  11.  He  names  only  one  book  pub¬ 
lished  at  Franeker.  He  quotes  Ockham  as  having  formerly  maintained  the 
same  monstrous  positions.  To  many,  if  not  to  most  of  these  opinions  or 
expressions,  ancient  and  modern,  reservations  are  adjoined,  which  render 
them  literally  reconcilable  with  practical  morals.  But  the  dangerous  abuse 
to  which  the  incautious  language  of  ethical  theories  is  liable,  is  well  illustrat¬ 
ed  by  an  anecdote  related  in  Plutarch’s  Life  of  Alexander.  A  sycophant 
named  Anaxarchas  consoled  that  monarch  for  the  murder  of  Clitus,  by  as¬ 
suring  him  that  every  act  of  a  ruler  must  be  just,  ristv  to  tt^hkBoy  Jwo  too 
x^ttrovvTo  tlix-aiov.  (Plct.  0]>er.  1  639.  Franc.  1599.) 
t  Born  in  1675;  died  in  1729. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


79 


man  spirits.  Roused  by  the  prevalence  of  the  doctrines 
of  Spinoza  and  Hobbes,  he  endeavoured  to  demonstrate 
the  being  and  attributes  of  God,  from  a  few  axioms  and 
definitions,  in  the  manner  of  geometry;  an  attempt  in 
which,  with  all  his  powers  of  argument,  it  must  be  own¬ 
ed  that  he  is  compelled  sometimes  tacitly  to  assume  what 
the  laws  of  reasoning  required  him  to  prove  ;  and  that, 
on  the  whole,  his  failure  may  be  regarded  as  a  proof  that 
such  a  mode  of  argument  is  beyond  the  faculties  of  man.* 
Justly  considering  the  moral  attributes  of  the  Deity  as 
what  alone  renders  him  the  object  of  religion,  and  to  us 
constitutes  the  difference  between  theism  and  atheism, 
he  laboured  with  the  utmost  zeal  to  place  the  distinctions 
of  right  and  wrong  on  a  more  solid  foundation ;  and  to 
explain  the  conformity  of  morality  to  reason,  in  a  manner 
calculated  to  give  a  precise  and  scientific  signification  to 
that  phraseology  which  all  philosophers  had,  for  so  many 
ages,  been  content  to  employ,  without  thinking  them¬ 
selves  obliged  to  define. 

It  is  one  of  the  most  rarely  successful  efforts  of  the  hu¬ 
man  mind,  to  place  the  understanding  at  the  point  from 
which  a  philosopher  takes  the  views  that  compose  his  sys¬ 
tem,  to  recollect  constantly  his  purposes,  to  adopt  for  a 
moment  his  previous  opinions  and  prepossessions,  to  think 
in  his  words  and  to  see  with  his  eyes  ;  especially  when 
the  writer  widely  dissents  from  the  system  which  he  at¬ 
tempts  to  describe,  and  after  a  general  change  in  the 
modes  of  thinking  and  in  the  use  of  terms.  Every  part 
of  the  present  Dissertation  requires  such  an  excuse  ;  but 


*  This  admirable  person  had  so  much  candour  as  in  effect  to  own  his  fail¬ 
ure,  and  to  recur  to  those  other  arguments  in  support  of  this  great  truth, 
which  have  in  all  ages  satisfied  the  most  elevated  minds.  In  Proposition 
viii.  ( Being  and  Attributes  of  God,  p.  47)  which  affirms  that  the  first  cause 
must  be  “  intelligent”  (where,  as  he  truly  states,  “  lies  the  main  question 
between  us  and  the  atheists”)  he  owns,  that  the  proposition  cannot  be  dem¬ 
onstrated  strictly  and  properly  a  prioi-i. 

See  notes  and  Illustrations,  note  M. 


80 


PROGRESS  OF 


perhaps  it  may  be  more  necessary  in  a  case  like  that  of 
Clarke,  where  the  alterations  in  both  respects  have  been 
so  insensible,  and  in  some  respects  appear  so  limited,  that 
they  may  escape  attention,  than  after  those  total  revolu¬ 
tions  in  doctrine,  where  the  necessity  of  not  measuring 
other  times  by  our  own  standard  must  be  apparent  to  the 
most  undistinguishing. 

The  sum  of  his  moral  doctrine  may  be  stated  as  fol¬ 
lows.  Man  can  conceive  nothing  without  at  the  same 
time  conceiving  its  relations  to  other  things.  He  must 
ascribe  the  same  law  of  perception  to  every  being  to 
whom  he  ascribes  thought.  He  cannot  therefore  doubt 
that  all  the  relations  of  all  things  to  all  must  have  always 
been  present  to  the  Eternal  Mind.  The  relations  in  this 
sense  are  eternal,  however  recent  the  things  may  be  be¬ 
tween  whom  they  subsist.  The  whole  of  these  relations 
constitute  truth.  The  knowledge  of  them  is  omniscience. 
These  eternal  different  relations  of  things  involve  a  con¬ 
sequent  eternal  fitness  or  unfitness  in  the  application  of 
things  one  to  another ;  with  a  regard  to  which,  the  will 
of  God  always  chooses,  and  which  ought  likewise  to  de¬ 
termine  the  wills  of  all  subordinate  rational  beings.  These 
eternal  differences  make  it  fit  and  reasonable  for  the  crea¬ 
tures  so  to  act;  they  cause  it  to  be  their  duty,  or  lay  an 
obligation  on  them  so  to  do,  separate  from  the  will  of 
God,* * * §  and  antecedent  to  any  prospect  of  advantage  or 
re  ward,  f  Nay,  wilful  wickedness  is  the  same  absurdity 
and  insolence  in  morals,  as  it  would  be  in  natural  things 
to  pretend  to  alter  the  relations  of  numbers,  or  to  take 
away  the  properties  of  mathematical  figures. J  “Mo¬ 
rality,”  says  one  of  his  most  ingenious  scholars,  “  is  the 
practice  of  reason. ”§> 

*  “  Those  who  found  all  moral  obligation  on  the  will  of  God  must  recur 
to  the  same  thing,  only  when  they  do  not  explain  how  the  nature  and  will 
of  God  is  good  and  just.”  ( Being  and  Attributes  of  God,  Proposition  xii.) 

f  Evidence  of  Natural  and  Revealed  Religion ,  p.  4,  6th  edit.  Lond.  1724. 

£  Ibid.  p.  42. 

§  Lowmas  on  the  Unity  and  Perfections  of  God,  p.  29.  Lond.  1737. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


81 


Clarke,  like  Cudworth,  considered  such  a  scheme  as 
the  only  security  against  Hobbism,  and  probably  against 
the  Calvinistic  theology,  from  which  they  were  almost  as 
averse.  Not  content,  with  Cumberland,  to  attack  Hob¬ 
bes  on  ground  which  was  in  part  his  own,  they  thought 
it  necessary  to  build  on  entirely  new  foundations.  Clarke 
more  especially,  instead  of  substituting  social  and  gene¬ 
rous  feeling  for  the  selfish  appetites,  endeavoured  to  be¬ 
stow  on  morality  the  highest  dignity,  by  thus  deriving 
it  from  reason.  He  made  it  more  than  disinterested  ;  for 
he  placed  its  seat  in  a  region  where  interest  never  enters, 
and  passion  never  disturbs.  By  ranking  her  principles 
with  the  first  truths  of  science,  he  seemed  to  render  them 
pure  and  impartial,  infallible  and  unchangeable.  It 
might  be  excusable  to  regret  the  failure  of  so  noble  an 
attempt,  if  the  indulgence  of  such  regrets  did  not  betray 
an  unworthy  apprehension  that  the  same  excellent  ends 
could  only  be  attained  by  such  frail  means;  and  that  the 
dictates  of  the  most  severe  reason  would  not  finally  prove 
reconcilable  with  the  majesty  of  virtue. 

REMARKS. 

The  adoption  of  mathematical  forms  and  terms  was,  in 
England,  a  prevalent  fashion  among  writers  on  moral 
subjects  during  a  large  part  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
The  ambition  of  mathematical  certainty,  on  matters  con¬ 
cerning  which  it  is  not  given  to  man  to  reach  it,  is  a  frail¬ 
ty  from  which  the  disciple  of  Newton  ought  in  reason 
to  have  been  withheld,  but  to  which  he  was  naturally 
tempted  by  the  example  of  his  master.  Nothing  but  the 
extreme  difficulty  of  detaching  assent  from  forms  of  ex¬ 
pression  to  which  it  has  been  long  wedded,  can  explain 
the  fact,  that  the  incautious  expressions  above  cited,  into 
which  Clarke  was  hurried  by  his  moral  sensibility,  did  not 
awaken  him  to  a  sense  of  the  error  into  which  he  had  fallen. 
As  soon  as  he  had  said  that  (C  a  wicked  act  was  as  absurd 
L 


82 


PROGRESS  OF 


as  an  attempt  to  take  away  the  properties  of  a  figure,’’ 
he  ought  to  have  seen,  that  principles  which  led  logical¬ 
ly  to  such  a  conclusion  were  untrue.  As  it  is  an  impos¬ 
sibility  to  make  three  and  three  cease  to  be  six,  it  ought, 
on  his  principles,  to  be  impossible  to  do  a  wicked  act. 
To  act  without  regard  to  the  relations  of  things,  as  if  a 
man  were  to  choose  fire  for  cooling,  or  ice  for  heating, 
would  be  the  part  either  of  a  lunatic  or  an  ideot.  The 
murderer  who  poisons  by  arsenic,  acts  agreeably  to  his 
knowledge  of  the  power  of  that  substance  to  kill,  which 
is  a  relation  between  two  things;  as  much  as  the  physi¬ 
cian  who  employs  an  emetic  after  the  poison,  acts  upon 
his  belief  of  the  tendency  of  that  remedy  to  preseve  life, 
which  is  another  relation  between  two  things.  All  men 
who  seek  a  good  or  bad  end  by  good  or  bad  means,  must 
alike  conform  their  conduct  to  some  relation  between 
their  actions  as  means  and  their  object  as  an  end.  All  the 
relations  of  inanimate  things  to  each  other  are  undoubt¬ 
edly  observed  as  much  by  the  criminal  as  by  the  man  of 
virtue. 

It  is  therefore  singular  that  Dr  Clarke  suffered  himself 
to  be  misled  into  the  representation,  that  virtue  is  a 
conformity  with  the  relations  of  things  universally,  vice 
a  universal  disregard  of  them,  by  the  certain,  but  here 
insufficient  truth,  that  the  former  necessarily  implied  a 
regard  to  certain  particular  relations,  which  were  always 
disregarded  by  those  who  chose  the  latter.  The  dis¬ 
tinction  between  right  and  wrong  can,  therefore,  no 
longer  depend  on  relations  as  such,  but  on  a  particular 
class  of  relations.  And  it  seems  evident  that  no  relations 
are  to  be  considered,  except  those  in  which  a  living,  in¬ 
telligent,  and  voluntary  agent  is  one  of  the  beings  related. 
His  acts  may  relate  to  a  law,  as  either  observing  or  in¬ 
fringing  it ;  they  may  relate  to  his  own  moral  sentiments 
and  those  of  his  fellows,  as  they  are  the  objects  of  appro¬ 
bation  or  disapprobation  ;  they  may  relate  to  his  own 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


83 


welfare,  by  increasing  or  abating  it ;  they  may  relate  to 
the  wellbeing  of  other  sentient  beings,  by  contributing 
to  promote  or  obstruct  it :  but  in  all  these,  and  in  all 
supposable  cases,  the  inquiry  of  the  moral  philosopher 
must  be,  not  whether  there  be  a  relation,  but  what  the 
relation  is  ;  whether  it  be  that  of  obedience  of  law,  or 
agreeableness  to  moral  feeling,  or  suitableness  to  pru¬ 
dence,  or  coincidence  with  benevolence.  The  term 
relation  itself,  on  which  Dr  Clarke’s  system  rests,  being 
common  to  right  and  wrong,  must  be  struck  out  of  the 
reasoning.  He  himself  incidentally  drops  intimations 
which  are  at  variance  with  his  system.  “  The  Deity,” 
he  tells  us,  “  acts  according  to  the  eternal  relations  of 
things,  in  order  to  the  welfare  of  the  whole  universe 
and  subordinate  moral  agents  ought  to  be  governed  by 
the  same  rules,  ‘‘for  the  good  of  the  public.”*  No  one 
can  fail  to  observe  that  a  new  element  is  here  introduced 
— the  wellbeing  of  communities  of  men,  and  the  general 
happiness  of  the  world — which  supersedes  the  conside¬ 
ration  of  abstract  relations  and  fitnesses. 

There  are  other  views  of  this  system,  however,  of  a 
more  general  nature,  and  of  much  more  importance,  be¬ 
cause  they  extend  in  a  considerable  degree  to  all  systems 
which  found  moral  distinctions  or  sentiments,  solely  or 
ultimately,  upon  reason.  A  little  reflection  will  discover 
an  extraordinary  vacuity  in  this  system.  Supposing  it 
were  allowed  that  it  satisfactorily  accounts  for  moral 
judgments,  there  is  still  an  important  part  of  our  moral 
sentiments  which  it  passes  by  without  an  attempt  to  ex¬ 
plain  them.  Whence,  on  this  scheme,  the  pleasure  or 
pain  with  which  we  review  our  own  actions  ;  or  survey 
those  of  others  ?  What  is  the  nature  of  remorse  ?  Why 
do  we  feel  shame  ?  Whence  is  indignation  against  in¬ 
justice?  These  are  surely  no  exercise  of  reason.  Nor 


*  Evidence  of  Natural  and  Revealed  Religion,  p .  4. 


84 


PROGRESS  OF 


is  the  assent  of  reason  to  any  other  class  of  propositions 
followed  or  accompanied  by  emotions  of  this  nature,  by 
any  approaching  them,  or  indeed  necessarily  by  any 
emotion  at  all.  It  is  a  fatal  objection  to  a  moral  theory, 
that  it  contains  no  means  of  explaining  the  most  conspi¬ 
cuous,  if  not  the  most  essential,  parts  of  moral  approba¬ 
tion  and  disapprobation. 

But  to  rise  to  a  more  general  consideration  :  Percep¬ 
tion  and  emotion  are  states  of  mind  perfectly  distinct ; 
and  an  emotion  of  pleasure  or  pain  differs  much  more 
from  a  mere  perception,  than  the  perceptions  of  one 
sense  do  from  those  of  another.  The  perceptions  of  all 
the  senses  have  some  qualities  in  common.  But  an  emo¬ 
tion  has  not  necessarily  anything  in  common  with  a  per¬ 
ception,  but  that  they  are  both  states  of  mind.  We 
perceive  exactly  the  same  qualities  in  coffee  when  we 
may  dislike  it,  as  afterwards  when  we  come  to  like  it. 
In  other  words,  the  perception  remains  the  same  when 
the  sensation  of  pain  is  changed  into  the  opposite  sensa¬ 
tion  of  pleasure.  The  like  change  may  occur  in  every 
case  where  pleasure  or  pain  (in  such  instances  called 
sensations)  enter  the  mind  with  perceptions  through  the 
eye  or  the  ear.  The  prospect  or  the  sound  which  was 
disagreeable  may  become  agreeable,  without  any  alter¬ 
ation  in  our  idea  of  the  objects.  We  can  easily 
imagine  a  percipient  and  thinking  being  without  a  capa¬ 
city  of  receiving  pleasure  or  pain.  Such  a  being  might 
perceive  what  we  do  ;  if  we  could  conceive  him  to  rea¬ 
son,  he  might  reason  justly  ;  and  if  he  were  to  judge  at 
all,  there  seems  no  reason  why  he  should  not  judge  truly. 
But  what  could  induce  such  a  being  to  will  or  to  act  P 
It  seems  evident  that  his  existence  could  only  be  a  state 
of  passive  contemplation.  Reason,  as  reason,  can  never 
be  a  motive  to  action.  It  is  only  when  we  superadd  to 
such  a  being  sensibility,  or  the  capacity  of  emotion  or 
sentiment,  (or  what  in  corporeal  cases  is  called  sensation) 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


85 


of  desire  and  aversion,  that  we  introduce  him  into  the 
world  of  action.  We  then  clearly  discern,  that  when 
the  conclusion  of  a  process  of  reasoning  presents  to  his 
mind  an  object  of  desire,  or  the  means  of  obtaining  it, 
a  motive  of  action  begins  to  operate ;  and  reason  may 
then,  but  not  till  then,  have  a  powerful  though  indirect 
influence  on  conduct.  Let  any  argument  to  dissuade  a 
man  from  immorality  be  employed,  and  the  issue  of  it 
will  always  appear  to  be  an  appeal  to  a  feeling.  You 
prove  that  drunkenness  will  probably  ruin  health.  No 
position  founded  on  experience  is  more  certain.  Most 
persons  with  whom  you  reason  must  be  as  much  convinced 
of  it  as  you  are.  But  your  hope  of  success  depends  on 
the  drunkard’s  fear  of  ill  health  ;  and  he  may  always 
silence  your  argument  by  telling  you  that  he  loves  wine 
more  than  he  dreads  sickness.  You  speak  in  vain  of 
the  infamy  of  an  act  to  one  who  disregards  the  opinion 
of  others  ;  or  of  its  imprudence  to  a  man  of  little  feeling 
for  his  own  future  condition.  You  may  truly,  but  vainly, 
tell  of  the  pleasures  of  friendship  to  one  who  has  little 
affection.  If  you  display  the  delights  of  liberality  to  a 
miser,  he  may  always  shut  your  mouth  by  answering, 
“the  spendthrift  may  prefer  such  pleasures;' I  love 
money  more.”  If  you  even  appeal  to  a  man’s  conscience, 
he  may  answer  you,  that  you  have  clearly  proved  the 
immorality  of  the  act,  and  that  he  himself  knew  it  be¬ 
fore  ;  but  that  now,  when  you  had  renewed  and  freshened 
his  conviction,  he  was  obliged  to  own,  that  his  love  of 
virtue,  even  aided  by  the  fear  of  dishonour,  remorse, 
and  punishment,  was  not  so  powerful  as  the  desire  which 
hurried  him  into  vice. 

Nor  is  it  otherwise,  however  confusion  of  ideas  may 
cause  it  to  be  so  deemed,  with  that  calm  regard  to  the 
welfare  of  the  agent,  to  which  philosophers  have  so 
grossly  misapplied  the  hardly  intelligible  appellation  of 
self-love.  The  general  tendency  of  right  conduct  to 


86 


progress  oi- 


permanent  wellbeing  is  indeed  one  of  the  most  evident 
of  all  truths.  But  the  success  of  persuasive  or  dissuasives 
addressed  to  it,  must  always  be  directly  proportioned, 
not  to  the  clearness  with  which  the  truth  is  discerned, 
but  to  the  strength  of  the  principle  addressed,  in  the 
mind  of  the  individual ;  and  to  the  degree  in  which  he 
is  accustomed  to  keep  an  eye  on  its  dictates.  A  strange 
prejudice  prevails,  which  ascribes  to  what  is  called  self- 
love  an  invariable  superiority  over  all  the  other  motives 
of  human  action.  If  it  were  to  be  called  by  a  more  fit 
name,  such  as  foresight,  prudence,  or,  what  seems  most 
exactly  to  describe  its  nature,  a  sympathy  with  the  fu¬ 
ture  feelings  of  the  agent,  it  would  appear  to  every  ob¬ 
server  to  be,  very  often,  too  languid  and  inactive,  always 
of  late  appearance,  and,  sometimes,  so  faint  as  to  be 
scarcely  perceptible.  Almost  every  human  passion  in 
its  turn  prevails  over  self-love. 

It  is  thus  apparent  that  the  influence  of  reason  on  the 
will  is  indirect,  and  arises  only  from  its  being  one  of  the 
channels  by  which  the  objects  of  desire  or  aversion  are 
brought  near  to  these  springs  of  voluntary  action.  It  is 
only  one  of  these  channels.  There  are  many  other  modes 
of  presenting  to  the  mind  the  proper  objects  of  the  emo¬ 
tions  which  it  is  intended  to  excite,  whether  of  a  calmer 
or  of  a  more  active  nature  ;  so  that  they  may  influence 
conduct  more  powerfully  than  when  they  reach  the  will 
through  the  channel  of  conviction.  The  distinction  be¬ 
tween  conviction  and  persuasion  would  indeed  be  other¬ 
wise  without  a  meaning  :  to  teach  the  mind  would  be 
the  same  thing  as  to  move  it ;  and  eloquence  would  be 
nothing  but  logic,  although  the  greater  part  of  the  power 
of  the  former  is  displayed  in  the  direct  excitement  of 
feeling  ; — on  condition,  indeed,  (for  reasons  foreign  to 
our  present  purpose)  that  the  orator  shall  never  appear 
to  give  counsel  inconsistent  with  the  duty  or  the  lasting 
welfare  of  those  whom  he  would  persuade.  In  like 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


87 


manner  it  is  to  be  observed,  that  though  reasoning  be 
one  of  the  instruments  of  education,  yet  education  is  not 
a  proof  of  reasoning,  but  a  wise  disposal  of  all  the  cir¬ 
cumstances  which  influence  character,  and  of  the  means 
of  producing  those  habitual  dispositions  which  insure 
welldoing,  of  which  reasoning  is  but  one.  Very  similar 
observations  are  applicable  to  the  great  arts  of  legislation 
and  government ;  which  are  here  only  alluded  to  as 
forming  a  strong  illustration  of  the  present  argument. 

The  abusive  extension  of  the  term  Reason  to  the 
moral  faculties,  one  of  the  predominant  errors  of  ancient 
and  modern  times,  has  arisen  from  causes  which  it  is  not 
difficult  to  discover.  Reason  does  in  truth  perform  a 
great  part  in  every  case  of  moral  sentiment.  To  reason 
often  belong  the  preliminaries  of  the  act ;  to  reason  al¬ 
together  belongs  the  choice  of  the  means  of  execution. 
The  operations  of  reason,  in  both  cases,  are  comparatively 
slow  and  lasting ;  they  are  capable  of  being  distinctly 
recalled  by  memory.  The  emotion  which  intervenes 
between  the  previous  and  the  succeeding  exertions  of 
reason  is  often  faint,  generally  transient,  and  scarcely 
ever  capable  of  being  reproduced  by  an  effort  of  the 
mind.  Hence  the  name  of  reason  is  applied  to  this 
mixed  state  of  mind;  more  especially  when  the  feeling,  be¬ 
ing  of  acold  and  general  nature,  and  scarcely  ruffling  the 
surface  of  the  soul,  such  as  those  of  prudence  and  of  or¬ 
dinary  kindness  and  propriety,  almost  passes  unnoticed, 
and  is  irretrievably  forgotten.  Hence  the  mind  is,  in 
such  conditions,  said  by  moralists  to  act  from  reason ,  in 
contradistinction  to  its  more  excited  and  disturbed  state, 
when  it  is  said  to  act  from  passion.  The  calmness  of 
reason  gives  to  the  whole  compound  the  appearance  of 
unmixed  reason.  The  illusion  is  further  promoted  by  a 
mode  of  expression  used  in  most  languages.  A  man  is 
said  to  act  reasonably,  when  his  conduct  is  such  as  may 
be  reasonably  expected.  Amidst  the  disorders  of  a 


88 


PRO GUESS  OF 


vicious  mind,  it  is  difficult  to  form  a  reasonable  conjecture 
concerning  future  conduct;  but  the  quiet  and  well- 
ordered  state  of  virtue  renders  the  probable  acts  of  her 
fortunate  votaries  the  object  of  very  rational  expectation. 

As  far  as  it  is  not  presumptuous  to  attempt  a  distinction 
between  modes  of  thinking  foreign  to  the  mind  which 
makes  the  attempt,  and  modes  of  expression  scarcely 
translatable  into  the  only  technical  language  in  which 
that  mind  is  wont  to  think,  it  seems  that  the  systems  of 
Cudworth  and  Clarke,  though  they  appear  very  similar, 
are  in  reality  different  in  some  important  points  of  view. 
The  former,  a  Platonist,  sets  out  from  those  ideas  (a 
word,  in  this  acceptation  of  it,  which  has  no  correspond¬ 
ing  term  in  English)  the  eternal  models  of  created  things, 
which,  as  the  Athenian  master  taught,  pre-existed  in 
the  everlasting  intellect,  and,  of  right,  rule  the  will  of 
every  inferior  mind.  The  illustrious  scholar  of  Newton, 
with  a  manner  of  thinking  more  natural  to  his  age  and 
school,  considered  primarily  the  very  relations  of  things 
themselves  ;  conceived  indeed  by  the  eternal  mind,  but 
which,  if  such  inadequate  language  may  be  pardoned, 
are  the  law  of  its  will,  as  well  as  the  model  of  its  works.* 

Earl  of  Shaftesbury.! 

Lord  Shaftesbury,  the  author  of  the  Characteristics , 
was  the  grandson  of  Sir  Antony  Ashley  Cooper,  created 
Earl  of  Shaftesbury,  one  of  the  master  spirits  of  the  Eng- 

•  Mr  Wollaston’s  system,  that  morality  consisted  in  acting  according  to 
truth,  seems  to  coincide  with  that  of  Dr  Clarke.  The  murder  of  Cicero  by 
Popilius  Lenas,  was,  according  to  him,  a  practical  falsehood  ;  for  Cicero 
had  been  his  benefactor,  but  Popilius  acted  as  if  that  were  untrue.  If  the 
truth  spoken  of  be,  that  gratitude  is  due  for  benefits,  the  reasoning  is  evi¬ 
dently  a  circle.  If  any  truth  be  meant,  indifferently,  it  is  plain  that  the 
assassin  acted  in  perfect  conformity  to  several  certain  truths  ;  such  as  the 
malignity  of  Antony,  the  ingratitude  and  venality  of  Popilius,  and  the  prob¬ 
able  impunity  of  his  crime,  when  law  was  suspended,  and  good  men  with¬ 
out  power. 

t  Born  in  1671  ;  died  in  1713. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


89 


lish  nation,  whose  vices,  the  bitter  fruits  of  the  insecurity 
of  a  troublous  time,  succeeded  by  the  corrupting  habits 
of  an  inconstant,  venal,  and  profligate  court,  have  led 
an  ungrateful  posterity  to  overlook  his  wisdom,  and  dis¬ 
interested  perseverance,  in  obtaining  for  the  English  na¬ 
tion  the  unspeakable  benefits  of  the  Habeas  Corpus  act. 
The  fortune  of  the  Characteristics  has  been  singular. 
For  a  time  the  work  was  admired  more  undistinguish- 
ingly  than  its  literary  character  warrants.  In  the  suc¬ 
ceeding  period  it  was  justly  criticised,  but  too  severely 
condemned.  Of  late,  more  unjustly  than  in  either  of  the 
former  cases,  it  has  been  generally  neglected.  It  seemed 
to  have  the  power  of  changing  the  temper  of  its  critics. 
It  provoked  the  amiable  Berkeley  to  a  harshness  equally 
unwonted  and  unwarranted  while  it  softened  the 
rugged  Warburton  so  far  as  to  dispose  the  fierce  yet  not 
altogether  ungenerous  polemic  to  praise  an  enemy  in  the 
very  heat  of  conflict. f 

Leibnitz,  the  most  celebrated  of  continental  philoso¬ 
phers,  warmly  applauded  the  Characteristics ,  and, 
(what  was  a  more  certain  proof  of  admiration)  though  at 
an  advanced  age,  criticised  that  work  minutely. |  Le 


*  Berkeley’s  Minute  Philosopher,  Dialogue  iii. ;  but  especially  his  Theory 
of  Vision  Vindicated ,  Lond.  1733,  (not  republished  in  the  quarto  edition  of 
his  works)  where  this  most  excellent  man  sinks  for  a  moment  to  the  level 
of  a  railing'  polemic. 

f  It  is  remarkable  that  the  most  impure  passages  of  Warbur ton’s  compo¬ 
sition  are  those  in  which  he  lets  loose  his  controversial  zeal,  and  that  he  is 
a  fine  writer  principally  where  he  writes  from  generous  feeling.  “  Of  all 
the  virtues  which  were  so  much  in  this  noble  writer’s  heart  and  in  his 
writings,  there  was  not  one  he  more  revered  than  the  love  of  public  liberty. 
— The  noble  author  of  the  Characteristics  had  many  excellent  qualities,  both 
as  a  man  and  a  writer.  He  was  temperate,  chaste,  honest,  and  a  lover  of 
his  country.  In  his  writings  he  has  shown  how  much  he  has  imbibed  the 
deep  sense,  and  how  naturally  he  could  copy  the  gracious  manner  of  Plato.” 
(Dedication  to  the  Freethinkers,  prefixed  to  the  Divine  Legation.)  War- 
burton,  however,  soon  relapses,  but  not  without  excuse;  for  he  thought 
himself  vindicating  the  memory  of  Locke, 
t  Opera ,  tom.  III.  p.  39-56. 

M 


90 


PROGRESS  OF 


Clerc,  who  had  assisted  the  studies  of  the  author,  con¬ 
tributed  to  spread  its  reputation  by  his  Journal,  then 
the  most  popular  in  Europe.  Locke  is  said  to  have 
aided  in  his  education,  probably  rather  by  counsel  than 
by  tuition.  The  author  had  indeed  been  driven  from 
the  regular  studies  of  his  country  by  the  insults  with 
which  he  was  loaded  at  Winchester  school,  when  he  was 
only  twelve  years  old,  immediately  after  the  death  of  his 
grandfather  ;  a  choice  of  time  which  seemed  not  so  much 
to  indicate  anger  against  the  faults  of  a  great  man,  as 
triumph  over  the  principles  of  liberty,  which  seemed  at 
that  time  to  iiave  fallen  for  ever.  He  gave  a  genuine 
proof  of  respect  for  freedom  of  thought,  by  preventing 
the  expulsion,  from  Holland,  of  Bayle,  (with  whom  he 
differs  in  every  moral,  political,  and,  it  may  be  truly 
added,  religious  opinion)  when,  it  must  be  owned,  the 
right  of  asylum  was,  in  strict  justice,  forfeited  by  the 
secret  services  which  the  philosopher  had  rendered  to 
the  enemy  of  Holland  and  of  Europe.  In  the  small  part 
of  his  short  life  which  premature  infirmities  allowed  him 
to  apply  to  public  affairs,  he  co-operated  zealously  with 
the  friends  of  freedom  ;  but,  as  became  a  moral  philoso¬ 
pher,  he  supported,  even  against  them,  a  law  to  allow' 
those  who  were  accused  of  treason  to  make  their  defence 
by  counsel,  although  the  parties  first  to  benefit  from 
this  act  of  imperfect  justice  were  conspirators  to  assasin- 
ate  King  William,  and  to  re-enslave  their  country.  On 
that  occasion  it  is  well  known  with  what  admirable  quick¬ 
ness  he  took  advantage  of  the  embarrassment  which 
seized  him,  when  he  rose  to  address  the  House  of  Com¬ 
mons.  If  I,”  said  he,  who  rise  only  to  give  my 
opinion  on  this  bill,  am  so  confounded  that  I  cannot  say 
what  I  intended,  what  must  the  condition  of  that  man  be, 
who,  without  assistance,  is  pleading  for  his  own  life!”  He 
was  the  friend  of  Lord  Somers;  and  the  tribute  paid  to 
his  personal  character  by  Warburton,  who  knew  many 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


91 


of  his  contemporaries  and  some  of  his  friends,  may  be 
considered  as  evidence  of  its  excellence. 

His  fine  genius  and  generous  spirit  shine  through  his 
writings ;  but  their  lustre  is  often  dimmed  by  peculiari¬ 
ties,  and,  it  must  be  said,  by  affectations,  which,  originat¬ 
ing  in  local,  temporary,  or  even  personal  circumstances, 
are  particularly  fatal  to  the  permanence  of  fame.  There 
is  often  a  charm  in  the  egotism  of  an  artless  writer,  or  of 
an  actor  in  great  scenes.  But  other  laws  are  imposed  on 
the  literary  artist.  Lord  Shaftesbury,  instead  of  hiding 
himself  behind  his  work,  stands  forward  with  too  fre¬ 
quent  marks  of  self-complacency,  as  a  nobleman  of  pol¬ 
ished  manners,  with  a  mind  adorned  by  the  fine  arts, 
and  instructed  by  ancient  philosophy;  shrinking  with  a 
somewhat  effeminate  fastidiousness  from  the  clamour  and 
prejudices  of  the  multitude,  whom  he  neither  deigns  to 
conciliate  nor  puts  forth  his  strength  to  subdue.  The 
enmity  of  the  majority  of  churchmen  to  the  government 
established  at  the  Revolution,  was  calculated  to  fill  his 
mind  with  angry  feelings  ;  which  overflow  too  often,  if 
not  upon  Christianity  itself,  yet  upon  representations  of 
it,  closely  intertwined  with  those  religious  feelings  to 
which,  in  other  forms,  his  own  philosophy  ascribes  sur¬ 
passing  worth.  His  small,  and  occasional  writings,  of 
which  the  main  fault  is  the  want  of  an  object  or  a  plan, 
have  many  passages  remarkable  for  the  utmost  beauty 
and  harmony  of  language.  Had  he  imbibed  the  simpli¬ 
city,  as  well  as  copied  the  expression  and  cadence  of  the 
greater  ancients,  he  would  have  done  more  justice  to  his 
genius  ;  and  his  works,  like  theirs,  would  have  been  pre¬ 
served  by  that  quality,  without  which  but  a  very  few 
writings,  of  whatever  mental  power,  have  long  survived  * 
their  writers.  Grace  belongs  only  to  natural  movements ; 
and  Lord  Shaftesbury,  notwithstanding  the  frequent 
beauty  of  his  thoughts  and  language,  has  rarely  attained 
it.  He  is  unfortunately  prone  to  pleasantry,  which  is 


92 


PROGRESS  OP 


obstinately  averse  from  constraint,  and  which  he  had  no 
interest  in  raising  to  be  the  test  of  truth.  His  affectation 
of  liveliness  as  a  man  of  the  world,  tempts  him  sometimes 
to  overstep  the  indistinct  boundaries  which  separate  fa¬ 
miliarity  from  vulgarity.  Of  his  two  more  considerable 
writings,  the  Moralists ,  on  which  he  evidently  most  val¬ 
ued  himself,  and  which  is  spoken  of  by  Leibnitz  with 
enthusiasm,  is  by  no  means  the  happiest.  Yet  perhaps 
there  is  scarcely  any  composition  in  our  language  more 
lofty  in  its  moral  and  religious  sentiments,  and  more  ex¬ 
quisitely  elegant  and  musical  in  its  diction,  than  the  Pla¬ 
tonic  representation  of  the  scale  of  beauty  and  love,  in 
the  speech  to  Palemon,  near  the  close  of  the  first  part.* 
Many  passages  might  be  quoted,  which  in  some  measure 
justify  the  enthusiasm  of  the  septuagenarian  geometer. 
Yet  it  is  not  to  be  concealed  that,  as  a  whole,  it  is  heavy 
and  languid.  It  is  a  modern  antique.  The  dialogues 
of  Plato  are  often  very  lively  representations  of  conver¬ 
sations  which  might  take  place  daily  at  a  great  universi¬ 
ty,  full,  like  Athens,  of  rival  professors  and  eager  disci¬ 
ples, — between  men  of  various  character,  and  great  fame 
as  well  as  ability.  Socrates  runs  through  them  all.  His 
great  abilities,  his  still  more  venerable  virtues,  his  cruel 
fate,  especially  when  joined  to  his  very  characteristic 
peculiarities, — to  his  grave  humour,  to  his  homely  sense, 
to  his  assumed  humility,  to  the  honest  sliness  with  which 
he  ensnared  the  Sophists,  and  to  the  intrepidity  with 
which  he  dragged  them  to  justice,  gave  unity  and  dra¬ 
matic  interest  to  these  dialogues  as  a  whole.  But  Lord 
Shaftesbury’s  dialogue  is  between  fictitious  personages, 
and  in  a  tone  at  utter  variance  with  English  conversa¬ 
tion.  He  had  great  power  of  thought  and  command 
over  words.  But  he  had  no  talent  for  inventing  charac¬ 
ter  and  bestowing  life  on  it.  The  Inquiry  concerning 


*  Characteristics,  Treatise  v.  The  Moralists,  Part  i.  sect.  3. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


93 


Virtue*  is  nearly  exempt  from  the  faulty  peculiarities  of 
the  author;  the  method  is  perfect,  the  reasoning  just,  the 
style  precise  and  clear.  The  \vriter  has  no  purpose  but 
that  of  honestly  proving  his  principles  ;  he  himself  alto¬ 
gether  disappears  ;  and  he  is  intent  only  on  earnestly  en¬ 
forcing  what  he  truly,  conscientiously,  and  reasonably 
believes.  Hence  the  charm  of  simplicity  is  revived  in  this 
production,  which  is  unquestionably  entitled  to  a  place 
in  the  first  rank  of  English  tracts  on  Moral  Philosophy. 

The  point  in  which  it  becomes  especially  pertinent  to 
the  subject  of  this  Dissertation  is,  that  it  contains  more 
intimations  of  an  original  and  important  nature  on  the 
Theory  of  Ethics  than  perhaps  any  preceding  work  of 
modern  times. f  It  is  true  that  they  are  often  but  inti¬ 
mations,  cursory,  and  appearing  almost  to  be  casual ;  so 
that  many  of  them  have  escaped  the  notice  of  most  rea¬ 
ders,  and  even  writers  on  these  subjects.  That  the  con¬ 
sequences  of  some  of  them  are  even  yet  not  unfolded, 
must  be  owned  to  be  a  proof  that  they  are  inadequate¬ 
ly  stated ;  and  may  be  regarded  as  a  presumption  that 
the  author  did  not  closely  examine  the  bearings  of 
his  own  positions.  Among  the  most  important  of  these 
suggestions  is,  the  existence  of  dispositions  in  man,  by 
which  he  takes  pleasure  in  the  wellbeing  of  others,  with¬ 
out  any  further  view  ;  a  doctrine,  however,  to  all  the  con¬ 
sequences  of  which  he  has  not  been  faithful  in  his  other 
writings. :{:  Another  is,  that  goodness  consists  in  the 

*  Ibid.  Treatise  iv. 

f  I  am  not  without  suspicion  that  I  have  overlooked  the  claims  of  Dr  Henry 
More,  who,  notwithstanding  some  uncouthness  of  language,  seems  to  have 
given  the  first  intimations  of  a  distinct  moral  faculty,  which  he  calls  “the 
Boniform  Faculty;”  a  phrase  against  which  an  outcry  would  now  be  raised 
as  German.  Happiness,  according  to  him,  consists  in  a  constant  satisfac¬ 
tion,  iv  ts>  a.ya.QoitJ'it  <rnt  ( Enchiridion  Ethicum ,  lib.  i.  cap.  ii. 

+  “  It  is  the  height  of  wisdom  no  doubt  to  be  I'ightly  selfish.”  ( Charac . 
I.  121.)  The  observation  seems  to  be  taken  from  what  Aristotle  says  of 
•biXttu'rtx.:  Toy  y.tv  uyaSov  Su  <pt\a.vrov  uvut.  (Arist.  Ethic,  ix.  c.  viii.)  The 
chapter  is  admirable,  and  the  assertion  of  Aristotle  is  very  capable  of  a  good 
sense. 


94 


PROGRESS  OP 


prevalence  of  love  for  the  system  of  which  we  area  part, 
over  the  passions,  pointing  to  our  individual  welfare ;  a 
proposition  which  somewhat  confounds  the  motives  of 
right  acts  with  their  tendency,  and  seems  to  favour  the 
melting  of  all  particular  affections  into  general  benevo¬ 
lence,  because  the  tendency  of  these  affections  is  to  gen¬ 
eral  good.  The  next,  and  certainly  the  most  original, 
as  well  as  important,  is,  that  there  are  certain  affections 
of  the  mind  which,  being  contemplated  by  the  mind  itself 
through  what  he  calls  a  reflex  sense ,  become  the  objects 
of  love,  or  the  contrary,  according  to  their  nature.  So 
approved  and  loved,  they  constitute  virtue  or  merits  as 
distinguished  from  mere  goodness ,  of  which  there  are 
traces  in  animals  who  do  not  appear  to  reflect  on  the  state 
of  their  own  minds,  and  who  seem,  therefore,  destitute  of 
what  he  elsewhere  calls  a  moral  sense.  These  state¬ 
ments  are,  it  is  true,  far  too  short  and  vague.  He  no¬ 
where  inquires  into  the  origin  of  the  reflex  sense.  What 
is  a  much  more  material  defect,  he  makes  no  attempt  to 
ascertain  in  what  state  of  mind  it  consists.  We  discover 
only  by  implication,  and  by  the  use  of  the  term  sense , 
that  he  searches  for  the  fountain  of  moral  sentiments,  not 
in  mere  reason,  where  Cudworth  and  Clarke  had  vainly 
sought  for  it,  but  in  the  heart,  whence  the  main  branch 
of  them  assuredly  flows.  It  should  never  be  forgotten, 
that  we  owe  to  these  hints  the  reception,  into  ethical  the¬ 
ory,  of  a  moral  sense  ;  which,  whatever  may  be  thought 
of  its  origin,  or  in  whatever  words  it  may  be  described, 
must  always  retain  its  place  in  such  theory  as  a  main  prin¬ 
ciple  of  our  moral  nature. 

His  demonstration  of  the  utility  of  virtue  to  the  indi¬ 
vidual,  far  surpasses  all  attempts  of  the  same  nature;  be¬ 
ing  founded,  not  on  a  calculation  of  outward  advantages 
or  inconveniences,  alike  uncertain,  precarious,  and  de¬ 
grading,  but  on  the  unshaken  foundation  of  the  delight, 
which  is  of  the  very  essence  of  social  affection  and  virtu¬ 
ous  sentiment ;  on  the  dreadful  agony  inflicted  by  all  ma- 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


95 


levolent  passions,  upon  every  soul  that  harbours  the 
hellish  inmates  ;  on  the  all-important  truth,  that  to  love 
is  to  be  happy,  and  to  hate  is  to  be  miserable, — that  af¬ 
fection  is  its  own  reward,  and  ill-will  its  own  punishment; 
or,  as  it  has  been  more  simply  and  more  affectingly,  as 
well  as  with  more  sacred  authority,  taught,  that  to  give 
is  more  blessed  than  to  receive,  and  that  to  love  one  an¬ 
other  is  the  sum  of  all  human  virtue. 

The  relation  of  religion  to  morality,  as  far  as  it  can  be 
discovered  by  human  reason,  was  never  more  justly  or 
more  beautifully  stated.*  If  he  represented  the  mere 
hope  of  reward  and  dread  of  punishment  as  selfish,  and 
therefore  inferior  motives  to  virtue  and  piety,  he  dis¬ 
tinctly  owns  their  efficacy  in  reclaiming  from  vice,  in 
rousing  from  lethargy,  and  in  guarding  a  feeble  peni¬ 
tence  ;  in  all  which  he  coincides  with  illustrious  and  zeal¬ 
ous  Christian  writers.  “  If  by  the  hope  of  reward  be 
understood  the  love  and  desire  of  virtuous  enjoyment, 
or  of  the  very  practice  and  exercise  of  virtue  in  another 
life ;  an  expectation  or  hope  of  this  kind  is  so  far  from 
being  derogatory  from  virtue,  that  it  is  an  evidence  of 
our  loving  it  the  more  sincerely  and  for  its  own  sake.” f 


*  Characteristics,  Inquiry  concerning  Virtue. 
f  Ibid. 

So  Jeremy  Taylor;  “He  that  is  grown  in  grace  pursues  virtue  purely 
and  simply  for  its  own  interest.  When  persons  come  to  that  height  of 
grace,  and  love  God  for  himself,  that  is  but  heaven  in  another  sense.” 
( Sermon  on  Growth  in  Grace.)  So  before  him  the  once  celebrated  Mr  John 
Smith  of  Cambridge:  “  The  happiness  which  good  men  shall  partake  is  not 
distinct  from  their  godlike  nature.  Happiness  and  holiness  are  but  two 
several  notions  of  one  thing.  Hell  is  rather  a  nature  than  a  place,  and 
heaven  cannot  be  so  well  defined  by  any  thing  without  us,  as  by  something 
within  us.”  ( Select  Discourses,  2d  edit.  Cambridge,  1673.) 

In  accordance  with  these  old  authorities  is  the  recent  language  of  a  most 
ingenious  as  well  as  benevolent  and  pious  writer.  “  The  holiness  of  hea¬ 
ven  is  still  more  attractive  to  the  Christian  than  its  happiness.  The  desire 
of  doing  that  which  is  right  for  its  own  sake  is  a  part  of  his  desire  after  hea¬ 
ven.”  {Unconditional  freeness  of  the  Gospel,  by  T.  Erskine,  Esq.  p.  32,  33. 
Edinb.  1828.) 

See  also  the  Appendix  to  Ward’s  Life  of  Henry  More,  247-271.  This 


96 


PROGRESS  OF 


Fenelon* - BOSSUET. f 

As  the  last  question,  though  strictly  speaking  theolo¬ 
gical,  is  yet  in  truth  dependent  on  the  more  general 
question,  which  relates  to  the  reality  of  disinterested  af¬ 
fections  in  human  nature,  it  seems  not  foreign  from  the 
present  purpose  to  give  a  short  account  of  a  dispute  on 
the  subject  in  France,  between  two  of  the  most  eminent 
persons  of  their  time  ;  namely,  the  controversy  between 
Fenelon  and  Bossuet,  concerning  the  possibility  of  men 
being  influenced  by  the  pure  and  disinterested  love  of 
God.  Never  were  two  great  men  more  unlike.  Fene¬ 
lon  in  his  writings  exhibits  more  of  the  qualities  which 
predispose  to  religious  feelings,  than  any  other  equally 
conspicuous  person  ; — a  mind  so  pare  as  steadily  to  con¬ 
template  supreme  excellence  ;  a  heart  capable  of  being 
touched  and  affected  by  the  contemplation  ;  a  gentle  and 
modest  spirit,  not  elated  by  the  privilege,  but  seeing  its 
own  want  of  worth  as  it  came  nearer  to  such  brightness, 
and  disposed  to  treatwith  compassionate  forbearance  those 
errors  in  others,  of  which  it  felt  a  humbling  conscious¬ 
ness.  Bossuet  was  rather  a  great  minister  in  the  eccle¬ 
siastical  commonwealth ;  employing  knowledge,  elo¬ 
quence,  argument,  the  energy  of  his  character,  the  in¬ 
fluence,  and  even  the  authority  of  his  station,  to  vanquish 
opponents,  to  extirpate  revolters,  and,  sometimes  with  a 
patrician  firmness,  to  withstand  the  dictatorial  encroach- 

account  of  that  ingenious  and  amiable  philosopher  (Lond.  1710)  contains  an 
interesting  view  of  his  opinions,  and  many  beautiful  passages  of  his  writings, 
but  unfortunately  very  few  particulars  of  the  man.  His  letters  on  Disinter¬ 
ested  Piety  (see  the  Appendix  to  Mr  Ward’s  work),  his  boundless  charity,  his 
zeal  for  the  utmost  toleration,  and  his  hope  of  general  improvement  from 
“  a  pacific  and  perspicacious  posterity,”  place  him  high  in  the  small  num¬ 
ber  of  true  philosophers  who,  in  their  estimate  of  men,  value  dispositions 
more  than  opinions,  and  in  their  search  for  good,  more  often  look  forward 
than  backward- 

*  Bom  in  1651 ;  died  in  1715. 
f  Born  in  1627  ;  died  in  1704. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


97 


ment  of  the  Roman  Pontiff  on  the  spiritual  aristocracy  of 
France.  Fenelon  had  been  appointed  tutor  to  the  Duke 
of  Burgundy.  He  had  all  the  qualities  which  fit  a  man 
to  be  the  preceptor  of  a  prince,  and  which  most  disable 
him  to  get  or  to  keep  the  office.  Even  birth,  and 
urbanity,  and  accomplishment,  and  vivacity,  were  an  in¬ 
sufficient  atonement  for  his  genius  and  virtue.  Louis 
XIV.  distrusted  so  fine  a  spirit,  and  appears  to  have 
early  suspected,  that  a  fancy  moved  by  such  benevolence 
might  imagine  examples  for  his  grandson  which  the 
world  would  consider  as  a  satire  on  his  own  reign. 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  indeed,  favoured  him  ;  but  he 
was  generally  believed  to  have  forfeited  her  good  graces 
by  discouraging  her  projects  for  at  least  a  nearer  approach 
to  a  seat  on  the  throne.  He  offended  her  by  obeying 
her  commands,  in  laying  before  her  an  account  of  her 
faults,  and  some  of  those  of  her  royal  husband,  which 
was  probably  the  more  painfully  felt  for  its  mildness, 
justice,  and  refined  observation.*  An  opportunity  for 
driving  such  an  intruder  from  a  court  presented  itself 
somewhat  strangely,  in  the  form  of  a  subtile  controversy 
on  one  of  the  most  abstruse  questions  of  metaphysical 
theology.  Molinos,  a  Spanish  priest,  reviving  and  per¬ 
haps  exaggerating  the  maxims  of  the  ancient  mystics, 
had  recently  taught,  that  Christian  perfection  consisted 
in  the  pure  love  of  God,  without  hope  of  reward  or  fear 
of  punishment.  This  offence  he  expiated  by  seven  years 
imprisonment  in  the  dungeons  of  the  Roman  Inquisition. 
His  opinions  were  embraced  by  Madame  Guyon,  a  pious 
French  lady  of  strong  feeling  and  active  imagination, 
who  appears  to  have  expressed  them  in  a  hyperbolical 
language,  not  infrequent  in  devotional  exercises,  espe¬ 
cially  in  those  of  otherwise  amiable  persons  of  her  sex 
and  character.  In  the  fervour  of  her  zeal,  she  disre- 


N 


*  Babssjst,  Hisioire  de  Fenelon,  I.  252. 


98 


PROGRESS  OF 


garded  the  usages  of  the  world  and  the  decorums  im¬ 
posed  on  females.  She  left  her  family,  took  a  part  in 
public  conferences,  and  assumed  an  independence  scarcely 
reconcilable  with  the  more  ordinary  and  more  pleasing 
virtues  of  women.  Her  pious  effusions  were  examined 
with  the  rigour  which  might  be  exercised  on  theological 
propositions.  She  was  falsely  charged  by  Harlay,  the 
dissolute  archbishop  of  Paris,  with  personal  licentious¬ 
ness.  For  these  crimes  she  was  dragged  from  convent 
to  convent,  imprisoned  for  years  in  the  Bastile,  and,  as 
an  act  of  mercy,  confined  during  the  latter  years  of  her 
life  to  a  provincial  town,  as  a  prison  at  large.  A  piety 
thus  pure  and  disinterested  could  not  fail  to  please  Fene- 
lon.  He  published  a  work  in  justification  of  Madame 
Guyon's  character,  and  in  explanation  of  the  degree  in 
which  he  agreed  with  her.  Bossuet,  the  oracle  and 
champion  of  the  church,  took  up  arras  against  him.  It 
would  be  painful  to  suppose  that  a  man  of  so  great  powers 
was  actuated  by  mean  jealousy,  and  it  is  needless.  The 
union  of  zeal  for  opinion  with  the  pride  of  authority,  is 
apt  to  give  sternness  to  the  administration  of  controver¬ 
sial  bishops ;  to  say  nothing  of  the  haughty  and  inflexi¬ 
ble  character  of  Bossuet  himself.  He  could  not  brook 
the  independence  of  him  who  was  hitherto  so  docile  a 
scholar  and  so  gentle  a  friend.  He  was  jealous  of  nov¬ 
elties,  and  dreaded  a  fervour  of  piety  likely  to  be  un¬ 
governable,  and  perhaps  to  excite  movements  of  which 
no  man  could  foresee  the  issue.  It  must  be  allowed  that 
he  had  reason  to  be  displeased  with  the  indiscretion  and 
turbulence  of  the  innovators,  and  might  apprehend  that, 
in  preaching  motives  to  virtue  and  religion  which  he 
thought  unattainable,  the  coarser  but  surer  foundations 
of  common  morality  might  be  loosened.  A  controversy 
ensued,  in  which  he  employed  the  utmost  violence  of 
polemical  or  factious  contest.  Fenelon  replied  with 
brilliant  success,  and  submitted  his  book  to  the  judgment 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


99 


of  Rome.  After  a  long  examination,  the  commission  of 
ten  Cardinals  appointed  to  examine  it  were  equally 
divided,  and  he  seemed  in  consequence  about  to  be  ac¬ 
quitted.  But  Bossuet  had  in  the  mean  time  easily  gained 
Louis  XIV.  Madame  de  Maintenon  betrayed  Fenelon’s 
confidential  correspondence  ;  and  he  was  banished  to  his 
diocese,  and  deprived  of  his  pensions  and  official  apart¬ 
ments  in  the  palace.  Louis  XIV.  regarded  the  slightest 
differences  from  the  authorities  of  the  French  church  as 
rebellion  against  himself.  Though  endowed  with  much 
natural  good  sense,  he  was  too  grossly  ignorant  to  be  made 
to  comprehend  one  of  the  terms  of  the  question  in  dis¬ 
pute.  He  did  not,  however,  scruple  to  urge  the  Pope 
to  the  condemnation  of  Fenelon.  Innocent  XII.  (Pigna- 
telli)  an  aged  and  pacific  pontiff,  was  desirous  of  avoiding 
such  harsh  measures.  He  said  that  il  the  archbishop  of 
Cambray  might  have  erred  from  excess  in  the  love  of 
God,  but  the  bishop  of  Meaux  had  sinned  by  a  defect 
of  the  love  of  his  neighbour/7*  But  he  was  compelled 
to  condemn  a  series  of  propositions,  of  which  the  first 
was,  “  there  is  an  habitual  state  of  love  to  God,  which  is 
pure  from  every  motive  of  personal  interest,  and  in 
which  neither  the  fear  of  punishment  nor  the  hope  of  re¬ 
ward  has  any  part.77f  Fenelon  read  the  bull  which 
condemned  him  in  his  own  cathedral,  and  professed  as 
humble  a  submission  as  the  lowest  of  his  flock.  In  some 
of  the  writings  of  his  advanced  years,  which  have  been 
recently  published,  we  observe  with  regret  that,  when 
wearied  out  by  his  exile,  ambitious  to  regain  a  place  at 
court  through  the  Jesuits,  or  prejudiced  against  the  Cal- 
vinising  doctrines  of  the  Jansenists,  the  strongest  anti- 
papal  party  amongst  Catholics,  or  somewhat  detached 
from  a  cause  of  which  his  great  antagonist  had  been  the 
victorious  leader,  he  made  concessions  to  the  absolute 

*  Bausset,  Histoire  de  Fenelon,  II.  220,  note. 

f  CEuvres  de  Bossuet,  VIII.  308.  Liege,  1767,  8vo. 


100 


PROGRESS  OF 


monarchy  of  Rome,  which  did  not  become  a  luminary  of 
the  Gallican  church.* 

Bossuet,  in  his  writings  on  this  occasion,  besides  tra¬ 
dition  and  authorities,  relied  mainly  on  the  supposed 
principle  of  philosphy,  that  man  must  desire  his  own 
happiness,  and  cannot  desire  anything  else,  otherwise 
than  as  a  means  towards  it ;  which  renders  the  contro¬ 
versy  an  incident  in  the  history  of  ethics.  It  is  imme¬ 
diately  connected  with  the  preceding  part  of  this  Dis¬ 
sertation,  by  the*  almost  literal  coincidence  between 
Bossuet’s  foremost  objection  to  the  disinterested  piety 
contended  for  by  Fenelon,  and  the  fundamental  position 
of  a  very  ingenious  and  once  noted  divine  of  the  English 
church,  in  his  attack  on  the  disinterested  affections,  be¬ 
lieved  by  Shaftesbury  to  be  a  part  of  human  nature. f 

Leibnitz.J 

There  is  a  singular  contrast  between  the  form  of 
Leibnitz’s  writings  and  the  character  of  his  mind.  The 
latter  was  systematical,  even  to  excess.  It  was  the  vice 
of  his  prodigious  intellect,  on  every  subject  of  science 
where  it  was  not  bound  by  geometrical  chains,  to  confine 

*  De  Summi  Pontijicis  Jhidarilate  DissertaUo  :  CEuvres  de  I'exeeox,  tome 
II.  Versailles,  1820, 

-j-  “  Ilrec  est  natura  voluntatis  humanre,  ut  et  beatitudinem,  et  ea  quo¬ 
rum  necessaria  connexio  cum  beatitudine  clare  intelligitur,  necessario  appetat 

. Nullus  est  actus  ad  quern  revera  non  impellimur  motivo  beatitiulinis, 

explicite  vel  implicite meaning  by  the  latter  that  it  may  be  concealed 
from  ourselves,  as  he  says,  for  a  short  time,  by  a  nearer  object.  ( CEuvres  de 
Bossuet,  VIII.  80.)  “  The  only  motive  by  which  individuals  can  be  induced 
to  the  practice  of  virtue,  must  be  the  feeling  or  the  prospect  of  private  hap¬ 
piness.”  (Browx’s  Essays  on  the  Characteristics,  p.  159.  Lond.  1752.) 
It  must,  however,  be  owned,  that  the  selfishness  of  the  Warburtonian  is 
more  rigid  ;  making  no  provision  for  the  object  of  one’s  own  happiness 
slipping  out  of  view  for  a  moment.  It  is  due  to  the  very  ingenious  author 
of  this  forgotten  book  to  add,  that  it  is  full  of  praise  of  his  adversary,  which, 
though  just,  was  in  the  answer  generous  ;  and  that  it  contains  an  assertion 
of  the  unbounded  right  of  public  discussion,  unusual  even  at  the  tolerant 
period  of  its  appearance. 

$  Born  in  1646;  died  in  1716. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


101 


his  view  to  those  most  general  principles,  so  well  called 
by  Bacon  u  merely  notional;'”  which  render  it,  indeed? 
easy  to  build  a  system?  but?  only  because  they  maybe  alike 
adapted  to  every  state  of  appearances?  and  become  thereby 
really  inapplicable  to  any.  Though  his  genius  was  thus 
naturally  turned  to  system,  his  writings  were,  generally, 
occasional  and  miscellaneous.  The  fragments  of  his 
doctrines  are  scattered  in  Reviews;  or  over  a  volumin¬ 
ous  Literary  Correspondence  ;  or  in  the  Prefaces  and 
Introductions  to  those  compilations  ttt  which  this  great 
philosopher  was  obliged  by  his  situation  to  descend. 
This  defective  and  disorderly  mode  of  publication  arose 
partly  from  the  jars  between  business  and  study,  inevi¬ 
table  in  his  course  of  life;  but  probably  yet  more  from 
the  nature  of  his  system?  which,  while  it  widely  deviates 
from  the  most  general  principles  of  former  philosophers, 
is  ready  to  embrace  their  particular  doctrines  under  its 
own  generalities,  and  thus  to  reconcile  them  to  each 
other?  as  well  as  to  accommodate  itself  to  popular  or 
established  opinions,  and  compromise  with  them,  accord¬ 
ing  to  his  favourite  and  oft-repeated  maxim,  u  that  most 
received  doctrines  are  capable  of  a  good  sense;”*  by 
which  last  words  our  philosopher  meant  a  sense  re¬ 
concilable  with  his  own  principles.  Partial  and  occa¬ 
sional  exhibitions  of  these  principles  suited  better  than 
constant  negotiation  with  opinions,  establishments,  and 
prejudices,  to  which  extreme  generalities  are  well 
adapted,  than  a  full  and  methodical  statement  of  the 
whole  at  once.  It  is  the  lot  of  every  philosopher  who  \ 
attempts  to  make  his  principles  extremely  flexible,  that 
they  become  like  those  tools  which  bend  so  easily  as  to 
penetrate  nothing.  Yet  his  manner  of  publication  per- 

*  Nouveaux  Essais  sur  l’ Entendement  Humain,  liv.  i.  chap.  ii.  p.  57. 
These  Essays,  which  form  the  greater  part  of  the  publication  entitled  (Euvres 
Philosophiques ,  edited  by  Raspe,  Amst.  et  Leipz.  1765,  are  not  included  in 
Dutens’s  edition  of  Leibnitz’s  works. 


102 


PROGRESS  OF 


haps  led  him  to  those  wide  intuitions,  as  comprehensive 
as  those  of  Bacon,  of  which  he  expressed  the  result  as 
briefly  and  pithily  as  Hobbes.  The  fragment  which 
contains  his  ethical  principles  is  the  preface  to  a  collec¬ 
tion  of  documents  illustrative  of  international  law,  pub¬ 
lished  at  Hanover  in  1693  to  which  he  often  referred 
as  his  standard  afterwards,  especially  when  he  speaks  of 
Lord  Shaftesbury,  or  of  the  controversy  between  the 
two  great  theologians  of  France.  “  Right, says  he, 
(i  is  moral  power;  obligation  moral  necessity.  By  moral , 
I  understand  what  with  a  good  man  prevails  as  much  as 
if  it  were  physical.  A  good  man  is  he  who  loves  all 
men  as  far  as  reason  allows.  Justice  is  the  benevolence  of 
a  wise  man.  To  love  is  to  be  pleased  with  the  happi¬ 
ness  of  another  ,*  or,  in  other  words ,  to  convert  the 
happiness  of  another  into  a  part  of  one's  own.  Hence 
is  explained  the  possibility  of  a  disinterested  love. 
When  we  are  pleased  with  the  happiness  of  any  being, 
his  happiness  becomes  one  of  our  enjoyments.  Wisdom 
is  the  science  of  happiness. 

REMARKS. 

It  is  apparent  from  the  above  passage,  that  Leibnitz 
had  touched  the  truth  on  the  subject  of  disinterested 
affection ;  and  that  he  was  more  near  clinging  to  it  than 
any  modern  philosopher,  except  Lord  Shaftesbury.  It 
is  evident,  however,  from  the  latter  part  of  it,  that,  like 
Shaftesbury,  he  shrunk  from  his  own  just  conception; 
under  the  influence  of  that  most  ancient  and  far-spread 
prejudice  of  the  schools,  which  assumed  that  such  an 
abstraction  as  Happiness  could  be  the  object  of  love, 
and  that  the  desire  of  so  faint,  distant,  and  refined  an 
object,  was  the  first  principle  of  all  moral  nature,  of 
which  every  other  desire  was  only  a  modification  or  a 

*  Codex  Juris  Gentium  Diplomaticus.  Hanov.  1695. 

{•  See  Notes  and  Illustrations,  note  N. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


103 


fruit.  Both  he  and  Shaftesbury,  however,  when  they 
relapsed  into  the  selfish  system,  embraced  it  in  its  most 
refined  form  ;  considering  the  benevolent  affections  as 
valuable  parts  of  our  own  happiness,  not  in  consequence 
of  any  of  their  effects  or  extrinsic  advantages,  hut  of  that 
intrinsic  delightfulness  which  was  inherent  in  their  very 
essence.  But  Leibnitz  considered  this  refined  pleasure 
as  the  object  in  the  view  of  the  benevolent  man ;  an  ab¬ 
surdity,  or  rather  a  contradiction,  which,  at  least  in  the 
Inquiry  concerning  Virtue ,  Shaftesbury  avoids.  It 
will  be  seen  from  Leibnitz’s  limitation,  taken  together 
with  his  definition  of  Wisdom,  that  he  regarded  the  dis¬ 
tinction  of  the  moral  sentiments  from  the  social  affections, 
and  the  just  subordination  of  the  latter,  as  entirely 
founded  on  the  tendency  of  general  happiness  to  in¬ 
crease  that  of  the  agent,  not  merely  as  being  real,  but 
as  being  present  to  the  agent’s  mind  when  he  acts.  In 
a  subsequent  passage  he  lowers  his  tone  not  a  little. 

“  As  for  the  sacrifice  of  life,  or  the  endurance  of  the 

•  « 

greatest  pain  for  others,  these  things  are  rather  gener¬ 
ously  enjoined  than  solidly  demonstrated  by  philoso¬ 
phers.  For  honour,  glory,  and  self-congratulation,  to 
which  they  appeal  under  the  name  of  virtue,  are  indeed 
mental  pleasures,  and  of  a  high  degree,  but  not  to  all, 
nor  outweighing  every  bitterness  of  suffering  ;  since  all 
cannot  imagine  them  with  equal  vivacity,  and  that 
power  is  little  possessed  by  those  whom  neither  educa¬ 
tion,  nor  situation,  nor  the  doctrines  of  religion  or  philo¬ 
sophy,  have  taught  to  value  mental  gratifications.”* 
He  concludes  very  truly,  that  morality  is  completed  by 
a  belief  of  moral  government.  But  the  Inquiry  con¬ 
cerning  Virtue  had  reached  that  conclusion  by  a  better 
road.  It  entirely  escaped  his  sagacity,  as  it  has  that  of 
nearly  all  other  moralists,  that  the  coincidence  of  mor- 


104 


PROGRESS  OF 


ality  with  well- understood  interest  in  our  outward  ac¬ 
tions,  is  very  far  from  being  the  most  important  part  of 
the  question ;  for  these  actions  How  from  habitual  dis¬ 
positions^  from  affections  and  sensibilities,  which  deter¬ 
mine  their  nature.  There  may  be,  and  there  are  many 
immoral  acts,  which,  in  the  sense  in  which  words  are 
commonly  used,  are  advantageous  to  the  actor.  But  the 
whole  sagacity  and  ingenuity  of  the  world  may  be  safely 
challenged  to  point  out  a  case  in  which  virtuous  disposi¬ 
tions,  habits,  and  feelings,  are  not  conducive  in  the 
highest  degree  to  the  happiness  of  the  individual  ;  or  to 
maintain  that  he  is  not  the  happiest,  whose  moral  senti¬ 
ments  and  affections  are  such  as  to  prevent  the  possibility 
of  the  prospect  of  advantage  through  unlawful  means  from 
presenting  itself  to  his  mind.  It  would  indeed  have  been 
impossible  to  prove  to  Regulus  that  it  was  his  interest  to 
return  to  a  death  of  torture  in  Africa.  But  what  if  the 
proof  had  been  easy  ?  The  most  thorough  conviction 
on  such  a  point  would  not  have  enabled  him  to  set,  this 
example,  if  he  had  not  been  supported  by  his  own  in¬ 
tegrity  and  generosity,  by  love  of  his  country,  and  re¬ 
verence  for  his  pledged  faith.  What  could  the  conviction 
add  to  that  greatness  of  soul,  and  to  these  glorious  attri¬ 
butes?  With  such  virtues  he  could  not  act  otherwise  than 
he  did.  Would  a  father  affectionately  interested  in  a  son’s 
happiness,  of  very  lukewarm  feelings  of  morality,  but  of 
good  sense  enough  to  weigh  gratifications  and  sufferings 
exactly,  be  really  desirous  that  his  son  should  have  these 
virtues  in  a  less  degree  than  Regulus,  merely  because 
they  might  expose  him  to  the  fate  which  Regulus  chose? 
On  the  coldest  calculation  lie  would  surely  perceive, 
that  the  high  and  glowing  feelings  of  such  a  mind  dur¬ 
ing  life,  altogether  throw  into  shade  a  few  hours  of 
agony  in  leaving  it.  And,  if  he  himself  were  so  unfortu¬ 
nate  that  no  more  generous  sentiment  arose  in  his  mind 
to  silence  such  calculations,  would  it  not  be  a  reproach  to 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


105 


his  understanding  not  to  discover,  that  though  in  one 
case  out  of  millions  such  a  character  might  lead  a  Regu- 
lus  to  torture,  yet,  in  the  common  course  of  nature,  it  is 
the  source  not  only  of  happiness  in  life,  but  of  quiet  and 
honour  in  death.  A  case  so  extreme  as  that  of  Regulus 
will  not  perplex,  if  we  bear  in  mind,  that  though  we 
cannot  prove  the  act  of  heroic  virtue  to  be  conducive  to 
the  interest  of  the  hero,  yet  we  may  perceive  at  once, 
that  nothing  is  so  conducive  to  his  interest  as  to  have  a 
mind  so  formed  that  it  could  not  shrink  from  it,  but 
must  rather  embrace  it  with  gladness  and  triumph. 
Men  of  vigorous  health  are  said  sometimes  to  suffer  most 
in  a  pestilence.  No  man  was  ever  so  absurd  as  for  that 
reason  to  wish  that  he  were  more  infirm.  The  distemper 
might  return  once  in  a  century.  If  he  were  then  alive, 
he  might  escape  it ;  and  even  if  he  fell,  the  balance  of 
advantage  would  be  in  most  cases  greatly  on  the  side  of 
robust  health.  In  estimating  beforehand  the  value  of  a 
strong  bodily  frame,  a  man  of  sense  would  throw  the 
small  chance  of  a  rare  and  short  evil  entirely  out  of  the 
account.  So  must  the  coldest  and  most  selfish  moral 
calculator,  who,  if  he  be  sagacious  and  exact,  must  pro¬ 
nounce,  that  the  inconveniences  to  which  a  man  may 
be  sometimes  exposed  by  a  pure  and  sound  mind,  are  no 
reasons  for  regretting  that  we  do  not  escape  them  by 
possessing  minds  more  enfeebled  and  distempered. 
Other  occasions  will  call  our  attention,  in  the  sequel,  to 
this  important  part  of  the  subject.  But  the  great  name 
of  Leibnitz  seemed  to  require  that  his  degrading  state¬ 
ment  should  not  be  cited  without  warning  the  reader 
against  its  egregious  fallacy. 

0 


106 


PROGRESS  OF 


Malebranche.* 

This  ingenious  philosopher  and  beautiful  writer  is 
the  only  celebrated  Cartesian  who  has  professedly  han¬ 
dled  the  Theory  of  Morals. f  His  theory  has  in  some 
points  of  view  a  conformity  to  the  doctrine  of  Clarke  ; 
while  in  others  it  has  given  occasion  to  his  English  fol¬ 
lower  Norris J  to  say,  that  if  the  Quakers  understood 
their  own  opinion  of  the  illumination  of  all  men,  they 
would  explain  it  on  the  principles  of  Malebranche. 
“  There  is,”  says  he,  u  one  parent  virtue,  the  universal 
virtue,  the  virtue  which  renders  us  just  and  perfect, 
the  virtue  which  will  one  day  render  us  happy.  It  is 
the  only  virtue.  It  is  the  love  of  the  universal  order, 
as  it  eternally  existed  in  the  Divine  reason,  where  every 
created  reason  contemplates  it.  This  order  is  composed 
of  practical  as  well  as  speculative  truth.  Reason  per¬ 
ceives  the  moral  superiority  of  one  being  over  another, 
as  immediately  as  the  equality  of  the  radii  of  the  same 
circle.  The  relative  perfection  of  beings  is  that  part 
of  the  immovable  order  to  which  men  must  conform  their 
minds  and  their  conduct.  The  love  of  order  is  the 
whole  of  virtue,  and  conformity  to  order  constitutes  the 
morality  of  actions.”  It  is  not  difficult  to  discover,  that 
in  spite  of  the  singular  skill  employed  in  weaving  this 
web,  it  answers  no  other  purpose  than  that  of  hiding  the 
whole  difficulty.  The  love  of  universal  order,  says 
Malebranche,  requires  that  we  should  value  an  animal 
more  than  a  stone,  because  it  is  more  valuable  ;  and  love 
God  infinitely  more  than  man,  because  he  is  infinitely 
better.  But  without  presupposing  the  reality  of  moral 


*  Born  in  1638;  died  in  1715. 
t  Traite  de  Morale.  Rotterdam,  1684. 

t  Author  of  the  Theory  of  the  Ideal  World,  who  well  copied,  though  he 
did  not  equal,  the  clearness  and  choice  of  expression  which  belonged  to  his 
master. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


107 

distinctions,  and  the  power  of  moral  feelings,  the  two 
points  to  be  proved,  how  can  either  of  these  propositions 
be  evident,  or  even  intelligible  ?  To  say  that  a  love  of 
the  eternal  order  will  produce  the  love  and  practice  of 
every  virtue,  is  an  assertion  untenable  unless  we  take 
morality  for  granted,  and  useless  if  we  do. 

In  his  work  on  Morals,  all  the  incidental  and  secon¬ 
dary  remarks  are  equally  well  considered  and  well  ex¬ 
pressed.  The  manner  in  which  he  applied  his  princi¬ 
ple  to  the  particulars  of  human  duty,  is  excellent.  He 
is  perhaps  the  first  philosopher  who  has  precisely  laid 
down  and  rigidly  adhered  to  the  great  principle,  that 
virtue  consists  in  pure  intentions  and  dispositions  of 
mind ,  without  which,  actions,  however  conformable  to 
rules,  are  not  truly  moral ;  a  truth  of  the  highest  im¬ 
portance,  which,  in  the  theological  form,  may  be  said  to 
have  been  the  main  principle  of  the  first  Protestant  Re¬ 
formers.  The  ground  of  piety,  according  to  him,  is  the 
conformity  of  the  attributes  of  God  to  those  moral  quali¬ 
ties  which  we  irresistibly  love  and  revere.*  (i  Sove¬ 
reign  princes,”  says  he,  “  have  no  right  to  use  their 
authority  without  reason.  Even  God  has  no  such  mise¬ 
rable  right.”f  His  distinction  between  a  religious  soci¬ 
ety  and  an  established  church,  and  his  assertion  of  the 
right  of  the  temporal  power  alone  to  employ  coercion, 
are  worthy  of  notice,  as  instances  in  which  a  Catholic, 
at  once  philosophical  and  orthodox,  could  thus  speak, 
not  only  of  the  nature  of  God,  but  of  the  rights  of  the 
church. 

•  “  II  faut  aimer  l’Etre  infiniment  parfait,  et  non  pas  un  fantome  £pou- 
vantable,  un  Dieu  injuste,  absolu,  puissant,  mais  sans  bonte  et  sans  sagesse. 
S’il  y  avoit  un  tel  Dieu,  le  vrai  Dieu  nous  d^fendroit  de  l’adorer  et  de  l’ai- 
mer.  II  y  a  peut-etre  plus  de  danger  d’offenser  Dieu  lorsqu’on  lui  donne 
une  forme  si  horrible,  que  de  m£priser  ce  fantftme.”  ( Traite  de  Morale , 
chap,  viii.) 

f  Ibid .  chap.  xxii. 


108 


PROGRESS  OF 


Jonathan  Edwards.* 

This  remarkable  man,  the  metaphysician  of  America, 
was  formed  among  the  Calvinists  of  New  England,  when 
their  stern  doctrine  retained  its  rigorous  authority. f 
His  power  of  subtile  argument,  perhaps  unmatched, 
certainly  unsurpassed  among  men,  was  joined,  as  in  some 
of  the  ancient  Mystics,  with  a  character  which  raised 
his  piety  to  fervour.  He  embraced  their  doctrine, 
probably  without  knowing  it  to  be  theirs.  u  True  re¬ 
ligion,77  says  he,  “  in  a  great  measure  consists  in  holy 
affections.  A  love  of  divine  things,  for  the  beauty  and 
sweetness  of  their  moral  excellency,  is  the  spring  of  all 
holy  affections. 77J  Had  he  suffered  this  noble  principle 
to  take  the  right  road  to  all  its  fair  consequences,  he 
would  have  entirely  concurred  with  Plato,  with  Shaftes¬ 
bury,  and  Malebranche,  in  devotion  to  (t  the  first  good, 
first  perfect,  and  first  fair.77  But  he  thought  it 
necessary  afterwards  to  limit  his  doctrine  to  his  own 
persuasion,  by  denying  that  such  moral  excellence  could 
be  discovered  in  divine  things  by  those  Christians  who 
did  not  take  the  same  view  with  him  of  their  religion. 
All  others,  and  some  who  hold  his  doctrines  with  a  more 
enlarged  spirit,  may  adopt  his  principle  without  any 
limitation.  His  ethical  theory  is  contained  in  his  Dis¬ 
sertation  on  the  JVature  of  True  Virtue ;  and  in  ano¬ 
ther,  On  God's  Chief  End  in  the  Creation ,  published 
in  London  thirty  years  after  his  death.  True  virtue, 
according  to  him,  consists  in  benevolence,  or  love  to 
being  u  in  general,77  which  he  afterwards  limits  to  (( in¬ 
telligent  being,77  though  sentient  would  have  involved  a 
more  reasonable  limitation.  This  good-will  is  felt  to- 


*  Born  in  1703,  at  Windsor  in  Connecticut;  died  in  1758,  at  Princeton  in 
New  Jersey. 

-j-  Notes  and  Illustrations,  note  O. 

t  Edwards  on  Religious  Affections,  p.  4,  187.  Lond.  1796. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


109 


wards  a  particular  being,  first  in  proportion  to  his  de¬ 
gree  of  existence  (for,  says  he  “  that  which  is  great  has 
more  existence,  and  is  farther  from  nothing,  than  that 
which  is  little;”)  and  secondly,  in  proportion  to  the  de¬ 
gree  in  which  that  particular  being  feels  benevolence 
to  others.  Thus  God,  having  infinitely  more  existence 
and  benevolence  than  man,  ought  to  be  infinitely  more 
loved;  and  for  the  same  reason,  God  must  love  himself 
infinitely  more  than  he  does  all  other  beings.*  He  can 
act  only  from  regard  to  himself,  and  his  end  in  creation 
can  only  be  to  manifest  his  whole  nature,  which  is  called 
acting  for  his  own  glory. 

As  far  as  Edwards  confines  himself  to  created  beings, 
and  while  his  theory  is  perfectly  intelligible,  it  coincides 
with  that  of  universal  benevolence,  hereafter  to  be  con¬ 
sidered.  The  term  being  is  a  mere  incumbrance,  which 
serves  indeed  to  give  it  a  mysterious  outside,  but  brings 
with  it  from  the  schools  nothing  except  their  obscurity. 
He  was  betrayed  into  it  by  the  cloak  which  it  threw 
over  his  really  unmeaning  assertion  or  assumption,  that 
there  are  degrees  of  existence  ;  without  which  that  part 
of  his  system  which  relates  to  the  Deity  would  have  ap¬ 
peared  to  be  as  baseless  as  it  really  is.  When  we  try 
such  a  phrase  by  applying  it  to  matters  within  the  sphere 
of  our  experience,  we  see  that  it  means  nothing  but  de¬ 
grees  of  certain  faculties  and  powers.  But  the  very  ap¬ 
plication  of  the  term  being  to  all  things,  shows  that  the 
least  perfect  has  as  much  being  as  the  most  perfect ;  or 
rather  that  there  can  be  no  difference,  so  far  as  that 
word  is  concerned,  between  two  things  to  which  it  is 
alike  applicable.  The  justness  of  the  compound  propor- 


•  The  coincidence  of  Malebranche  with  this  part  of  Edwards,  is  remark¬ 
able.  Speaking  of  the  Supreme  Being,  he  says,  “  II  s'airae  invinciblement.” 
He  adds  another  more  startling  expression,  “  Certainement  Dieu  ne  peut 
agir  que  pour  luimeme:  il  n’a  point  d’autre  motif  que  son  amour  propre.” 
( Trait e  de  Morale ,  chap,  xvii.) 


no 


PROGRESS  OF 


tion  on  which  human  virtue  is  made  to  depend,  is  capa¬ 
ble  of  being  tried  by  an  easy  test.  If  we  suppose  the 
greatest  of  evil  spirits  to  have  a  hundred  times  the  bad 
passions  of  Marcus  Aurelius,  and  at  the  same  time  a 
hundred  times  his  faculties,  or,  in  Edward's  language, 
a  hundred  times  his  quantity  of  being,  it  follows  from 
this  moral  theory,  that  we  ought  to  esteem  and  love  the 
devil  exactly  in  the  same  degree  as  we  esteem  and  love 
Marcus  Aurelius. 

The  chief  circumstance  which  justifies  so  much  being 
said  on  the  last  two  writers,  is  their  concurrence  in  a 
point  to,words  which  Ethical  Philosophy  had  been  slowly 
approaching,  from  the  time  of  the  controversies  raised  up 
by  Hobbes.  They  both  indicate  the  increase  of  this 
tendency,  by  introducing  an  element  into  their  theory, 
foreign  from  those  cold  systems  of  ethical  abstraction, 
with  which  they  continued  in  other  respects  to  have 
much  in  common.  Malebranche  makes  virtue  consist  in 
the  love  of  order ,  Edwards  in  the  love  of  being.  In  this 
language  we  perceive  a  step  beyond  the  representation 
of  Clarke,  which  made  it  a  conformity  to  the  relations  of 
things ;  but  a  step  which  cannot  be  made  without  pass¬ 
ing  into  a  new  province ; — without  confessing,  by  the 
use  of  the  word  love ,  that  not  only  perception  and  reason, 
but  emotion  and  sentiment,  are  among  the  fundamental 
principles  of  morals.  They  still,  however,  were  so 
wedded  to  scholastic  prejudice,  as  to  choose  two  of  the 
most  aerial  abstractions  which  can  be  introduced  into 
argument, — being  and  order , — to  be  the  objects  of  those 
strong  active  feelings  which  were  to  govern  the  human 
mind. 


Buffier.* 

The  same  strange  disposition  to  fix  on  abstractions  as 


*  Born  in  1661  ;  died  in  1 737- 


t 

ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY.  Ill 

the  objects  of  our  primitive  feelings,  and  the  end  sought 
by  our  warmest  desires,  manifests  itself  in  the  ingenious 
writer  with  whom  this  part  of  the  Dissertation  closes, 
under  a  form  of  less  dignity  than  that  which  it  assumes 
in  the  hands  of  Malebranche  and  Clarke.  Buffier,  the 
only  Jesuit  whose  name  has  a  place  in  the  history  of  Ab¬ 
stract  Philosophy,  has  no  peculiar  opinions  which  would 
have  required  any  mention  of  him  as  a  moralist,  were  it 
not  for  the  just  reputation  of  his  treatise  on  First  Truths , 
with  which  Dr  Reid  so  remarkably,  though  unaware  of 
its  existence,  coincides,  even  in  the  misapplication  of  so 
practical  a  term  as  common  sense  to  denote  the  faculty 
which  recognises  the  truth  of  first  principles.  His  philoso¬ 
phical  writings*  are  remarkable  for  that  perfect  clearness 
of  expression  which,  since  the  great  exam  pies  of  Descartes 
and  Pascal,  has  been  so  generally  diffused  as  to  have  be¬ 
come  one  of  the  enviable  peculiarities  of  French  philo¬ 
sophical  style,  and  almost  of  the  French  language.  His 
ethical  doctrine  is  that  most  commonly  received  among 
philosophers,  from  Aristotle  to  Paley  and  Bentham  : 
“  I  desire  to  be  happy ;  but  as  I  live  with  other  men,  I 
cannot  be  happy  without  consulting  their  happiness:”  a 
proposition  perfectly  true  indeed,  but  far  too  narrow,  as 
inferring,  that  in  the  most  benevolent  acts  a  man  must 
pursue  only  his  own  interest,  from  the  fact  that  the 
practice  of  benevolence  does  increase  his  happiness,  and 
that  because  a  virtuous  mind  is  likely  to  be  the  happiest, 
our  observation  of  that  property  of  virtue  is  the  cause  of 
our  love  and  reverence  for  it. 


Coursde  Sciences.  Paris,  1T32,  folio. 


112 


PROGRESS  OF 


SECTION  VI. 


Foundations  of  a  more  just  Theory  of  Ethics. 

BUTLER - HUTCHESON - BERKELEY - HUME - SMITH - 

PRICE - HARTLEY — TUCKER - PALEY - BENTHAM — 

STEWART - BROWN. 

From  the  beginning  of  ethical  controversy  to  the 
eighteenth  century,  it  thus  appears,  that  the  care  of  the 
individual  for  himself,  and  his  regard  for  the  things 
which  preserve  self,  were  thought  to  form  the  first,  and, 
in  the  opinion  of  most,  the  earliest  of  all  the  principles 
which  prompt  men  and  other  animals  to  activity ;  that 
nearly  all  philosophers  regarded  the  appetites  and  de¬ 
sires,  which  look  only  to  self-gratification,  as  modifica¬ 
tions  of  this  primary  principle  of  self-love  ;  and  that  a 
very  numerous  body  considered  even  the  social  affections 
themselves  as  nothing  more  than  the  produce  of  a  more 
latent  and  subtile  operation  of  the  desire  of  interest,  and 
of  the  pursuit  of  pleasure.  It  is  true,  they  often  spoke 
otherwise ;  but  it  was  rather  from  the  looseness  and 
fluctuation  of  their  language,  than  from  distrust  in  their 
doctrine.  It  is  true,  also,  that  perhaps  all  represented 
the  gratifications  of  virtue  as  more  unmingled,  more  se¬ 
cure,  more  frequent,  and  more  lasting,  than  other  plea¬ 
sures  ;  without  which  they  could  neither  have  retained 
a  hold  on  the  assent  of  mankind,  nor  reconciled  the  prin¬ 
ciples  of  their  systems  with  the  testimony  of  their  hearts. 
We  have  seen  how  some  began  to  be  roused  from  a  lazy 
acquiescence  in  this  ancient  hypothesis,  by  the  monstrous 
consequences  which  Hobbes  had  legitimately  deduced 


ETHICAL  PHlLOSOrilY. 


113 


from  it.  A  few,  of  pure  minds  and  great  intellect,  la¬ 
boured  to  render  morality  disinterested,  by  tracing  it  to 
reason  as  its  source  ;  without  considering  that  reason, 
elevated  indeed  far  above  interest,  is  also  separated  by 
an  impassable  gulf,  from  feeling,  affection,  and  passion. 
At  length  it  was  perceived  by  more  than  one,  that 
through  whatever  length  of  reasoning  the  mind  may  pass 
in  its  advances  towards  action,  there  is  placed  at  the  end 
of  any  avenue  through  which  it  can  advance,  some  prin¬ 
ciple  wholly  unlike  mere  reason, — some  emotion  or 
sentiment  which  must  be  touched,  before  the  springs  of 
will  and  action  can  be  set  in  motion.  Had  Lord  Shaftes¬ 
bury  steadily  adhered  to  his  own  principles — had  Leib¬ 
nitz  not  recoiled  from  his  statement — the  truth  might 
have  been  regarded  as  promulged,  though  not  unfolded. 
The  writings  of  both  prove,  at  least  to  us,  enlightened 
as  we  are  by  what  followed,  that  they  were  skilful  in 
sounding,  and  that  their  lead  had  touched  the  bot¬ 
tom.  But  it  was  reserved  for  another  moral  philosopher 
to  determine  this  hitherto  unfathomed  depth.* 

BUTLER. f 

Butler,  who  was  the  son  of  a  Presbyterian  trader, 


*  The  doctrine  of  the  Stoics  is  thus  put  by  Cicero  into  the  mouth  of 
Cato:  “Placet  his,  inquit,  quorum  ratio  mihi  probatur,  simul  atque  na- 
tum  sit  animal,  (hinc  enim  est  ordidenum)  ipsum  sibi  conciliari  et  commen- 
dari  ad  se  conservandum,  et  ad  suum  statum,  et  ad  ea  qua:  conservantia  sunt 
ejus  status  diligenda  ;  alienari  autem  ab  iriteritu,  iisque  rebus  quae  interitum 
videantur  afferre.  Id  ita  esse  sic  probant,  quod,  antequam  voluptas  aut 
dolor  attigerit,  salutaria  appetant  parvi,  aspernenturque  contraria.  Quod 
non  fieret,  nisi  statum  suum  diligerent,  interitum  timerent.  Fieri  autem 
non  posset  ut  appeterent  aliquid,  nisi  sensum  haberent  sui,  eoque  se  et  sua 
diligerent.  Ex  auo  inteleigi  debet,  principium  ddctcm  esse  a  se  diei- 
gejtdi.”  (Be  Finibus,  lib.  iii.  cap.  v.)  We  are  told  that  diligendo  is  the 
reading  of  an  ancient  MS.  Perhaps  the  omission  of  ‘a’  would  be  the  easiest 
and  most  reasonable  emendation. 

The  above  passage  is  perhaps  the  fullest  and  plainest  statement  of  the 
doctrines  prevalent  till  the  time  of  Butler, 
f  Born  in  1692;  died  in  1752. 

P 


114 


PROGRESS  OF 


early  gave  such  promise,  as  to  induce  his  father  to  fit 
him,  by  a  proper  education,  for  being  a  minister  of  that 
persuasion.  He  was  educated  at  one  of  their  seminaries 
under  Mr  Jones  of  Gloucester,  where  Seeker,  afterwards 
archbishop  of  Canterbury,  was  his  fellow-student.  Though 
many  of  the  dissenters  had  then  begun  to  relinquish  Cal¬ 
vinism,  the  uniform  effect  of  that  doctrine,  in  disposing 
its  adherents  to  metaphysical  speculation,  long  survived 
the  opinions  which  caused  it,  and  cannot  be  doubted  to 
have  influenced  the  mind  of  Butler.  When  a  student 
at  the  academy  of  Gloucester,  he  wrote  private  letters  to 
Dr  Clarke  on  his  celebrated  Demonstration ,  suggesting 
objections  that  were  really  insuperable,  and  which  are 
marked  by  an  acuteness  which  neither  himself  nor  any 
other  ever  surpassed.  Clarke,  whose  heart  was  as  well 
schooled  as  his  head,  published  the  letters,  with  his  own 
answers,  in  the  next  edition  of  his  work;  and,  by  his 
good  offices  with  his  friend  and  follower,  Sir  Joseph  Je- 
kyll,  obtained  for  the  young  philosopher  an  early  oppor¬ 
tunity  of  making  his  abilities  and  opinions  known,  by 
the  appointment  of  preacher  at  the  Chapel  of  the  Master 
of  the  Rolls.  He  was  afterwards  raised  to  one  of  the 
highest  seats  on  the  episcopal  bench,  through  the  philo¬ 
sophical  taste  of  Queen  Caroline,  and  her  influence  over 
the  mind  of  her  husband,  which  continued  long  after 
her  death.  (i  He  was  wafted,7’  says  Horace  Walpole, 
(i  to  the  see  of  Durham,  on  a  cloud  of  Metaphysics.77* 
Even  in  the  fourteenth  year  of  his  widowhood,  George 
II.  was  desirous  of  inserting  the  name  of  the  Queen’s 
metaphysical  favourite  in  the  Regency  Bill  of  seventeen 
hundred  and  fifty-one. 

His  great  work  on  the  Analogy  of  Religion  to 
the  Course  of  Nature,  though  only  a  commentary 
on  the  singularly  original  and  pregnant  passage  of 


*  Walpole’s  Memoirs. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


115 


Origen,  which  is  so  honestly  prefixed  to  it  as  a  motto, 
is,  notwithstanding,  the  most  original  and  profound 
work  extant  in  any  language  on  the  Philosophy  of 
Religion.  It  is  entirely  beyond  our  present  scope. 
His  ethical  discussions  are  contained  in  those  deep  and 
sometimes  dark  Dissertations  which  he  preached  at  the 
Chapel  of  the  Rolls,  and  afterwards  published  under  the 
name  of  Sermons ,  while  he  was  yet  fresh  from  the 
schools,  and  full  of  that  courage  with  which  youth  often 
delights  to  exercise  its  strength  in  abstract  reasoning, 
and  to  push  its  faculties  into  the  recesses  of  abstruse 
speculation.  But  his  youth  was  that  of  a  sober  and  ma¬ 
ture  mind,  early  taught  by  nature  to  discern  the  bounda¬ 
ries  of  knowledge,  and  to  abstain  from  fruitless  efforts  to 
reach  inaccessible  ground.  In  these  sermons,*  he  has 
taught  truths  more  capable  of  being  exactly  distinguished 
from  the  doctrines  of  his  predecessors,  more  satisfacto¬ 
rily  established  by  him,  more  comprehensively  applied 
to  particulars,  more  rationally  connected  with  each  other, 
and  therefore  more  worthy  of  the  name  of  discovery , 
than  any  with  which  we  are  acquainted;  if  we  ought  not, 
with  some  hesitation,  to  except  the  first  steps  of  the  Gre¬ 
cian  philosophers  towards  a  Theory  of  Morals.  It  is  a 
peculiar  hardship,  that  the  extreme  ambiguity  of  lan¬ 
guage,  an  obstacle  which  it  is  one  of  the  chief  merits  of 
an  ethical  philosopher  to  vanquish,  is  one  of  the  circum¬ 
stances  which  prevent  men  from  seeing  the  justice  of 
applying  to  him  so  ambitious  a  term  as  discovery.  But¬ 
ler  owed  more  to  Lord  Shaftesbury  than  to  all  other  wri¬ 
ters  besides.  He  is  just  and  generous  towards  that  phi¬ 
losopher;  yet,  whoever  carefully  compares  their  writings, 
will  without  difficulty  distinguish  the  two  builders,  and 

•  See  Sermons  i.  ii.  and  iii.  On  Human  Nature;  v.  On  Compassion;  viii. 
On  Resentment;  ix.  On  Forgiveness;  xi.  and  xii.  On  the  Love  of  our  Neigh¬ 
bour;  and  xiii.  On  the  Love  of  God;  together  with  the  excellent  Preface. 


116 


PROGRESS  OF 


the  larger  as  well  as  more  regular  and  laboured  part  of 
the  edifice,  which  is  due  to  Butler. 

Mankind  have  various  principles  of  action;  some  lead¬ 
ing  directly  to  the  private  good,  some  immediately  to 
the  good  of  the  community.  But  the  private  desires 
are  not  self-love,  or  any  form  of  it ;  for  self-love  is  the 
desire  of  a  man’s  own  happiness,  whereas  the  object  of 
an  appetite  or  passion  is  some  outward  thing.  Self-love 
seeks  things  as  means  of  happiness;  the  private  appetites 
seek  things,  not  as  means,  but  as  ends.  A  man  eats 
from  hunger,  and  drinks  from  thirst ;  and  though  he 
knows  that  these  acts  are  necessary  to  life,  that  know¬ 
ledge  is  not  the  motive  of  his  conduct.  No  gratifica¬ 
tion  can  indeed  be  imagined  without  a  previous  desire. 
If  all  the  particular  desires  did  not  exist  independently, 
self-love  would  have  no  object  to  employ  itself  about; 
for  there  would  be  no  happiness,  which,  by  the  very  sup¬ 
position  of  the  opponents,  is  made  up  of  the  gratifica¬ 
tions  of  various  desires.  No  pursuit  could  be  selfish  or 
interested,  if  there  were  not  satisfactions  first  gained  by 
appetites  which  seek  their  own  outward  objects  without 
regard  to  self;  which  satisfactions  compose  the  mass  which 
is  called  a  man’s  interest. 

In  contending,  therefore,  that  the  benevolent  affec¬ 
tions  are  disinterested,  no  more  is  claimed  for  them  than 
must  be  granted  to  mere  animal  appetites  and  to  malevo¬ 
lent  passions.  Each  of  these  principles  alike  seeks  its 
own  object,  for  the  sake  simply  of  obtaining  it.  Plea¬ 
sure  is  the  result  of  the  attainment,  but  no  separate  part 
of  the  aim  of  the  agent.  The  desire  that  another  per¬ 
son  may  be  gratified,  seeks  that  outward  object  alone, 
according  to  the  general  course  of  human  desire.  Re¬ 
sentment  is  as  disinterested  as  gratitude  or  pity,  but  not 
more  so.  Hunger  or  thirst  may  be,  as  much  as  the  pu¬ 
rest  benevolence,  at  variance  with  self-love.  A  regard 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


117 


to  our  own  general  happiness  is  not  a  vice,  but  in  itself 
an  excellent  quality.  It  were  well  if  it  prevailed  more 
generally  over  craving  and  short-sighted  appetites. 
The  weakness  of  the  social  affections,  and  the  strength 
of  the  private  desires,  properly  constitute  selfishness ;  a 
vice  utterly  at  variance  with  the  happiness  of  him  who 
harbours  it,  and  as  such  condemned  by  self-love.  There 
are  as  few  who  attain  the  greatest  satisfaction  to  them¬ 
selves,  as  who  do  the  greatest  good  to  others.  It  is  ab¬ 
surd  to  say  with  some,  that  the  pleasure  of  benevolence 
is  selfish  because  it  is  felt  by  self.  Understanding  and 
reasoning  are  acts  of  self,  for  no  man  can  think  by  proxy; 
but  no  one  ever  called  them  selfish.  Why  ?  Evidently 
because  they  do  not  regard  self.  Precisely  the  same 
reason  applies  to  benevolence.  Such  an  argument  is  a 
gross  confusion  of  self,  as  it  is  a  subject  of  feeling  or 
thought,  with  self  considered  as  the  object  of  either.  It 
is  no  more  just  to  refer  the  private  appetites  to  self-love 
because  they  commonly  promote  happiness,  than  it  would 
be  to  refer  them  to  self-hatred  in  those  frequent  cases 
where  their  gratification  obstructs  it. 

But,  besides  the  private  or  public  desires,  and  besides 
the  calm  regard  to  our  own  general  welfare,  there  is  a 
principle  in  man,  in  its  nature  supreme  over  all  others. 
This  natural  supremacy  belongs  to  the  faculty  which 
surveys,  approves,  or  disapproves  the  several  affec¬ 
tions  of  our  minds  and  actions  of  our  lives.  As  self- 
love  is  superior  to  the  private  passions,  so  conscience 
is  superior  to  the  whole  of  man.  Passion  implies  nothing 
but  an  inclination  to  follow  it ;  and  in  that  respect  pas¬ 
sions  differ  only  in  force.  But  no  notion  can  be  form¬ 
ed  of  the  principle  of  reflection,  or  conscience,  which 
does  not  comprehend  judgment,  direction,  superinten¬ 
dency.  Authority  over  all  other  principles  of  action  is 
a  constituent  part  of  the  idea  of  conscience,  and  cannot 
be  separated  from  it.  Had  it  strength  as  it  has  right,  it 


118 


PROGRESS  OF 


would  govern  the  world.  The  passions  would  have  their 
power  but  according  to  their  nature,  which  is  to  be  sub¬ 
ject  to  conscience.  Hence  we  may  understand  the  pur¬ 
pose  at  which  the  ancients,  perhaps  confusedly,  aimed, 
when  they  laid  it  down,  that  virtue  consisted  in  follow¬ 
ing  nature.  It  is  neither  easy,  nor,  for  the  main  object* 
of  the  moralist,  important,  to  render  the  doctrines  of  the 
ancients  by  modern  language.  If  Butler  returns  to  this 
phrase  too  often,  it  was  rather  from  the  remains  of  undis¬ 
tinguishing  reverence  for  antiquity,  than  because  he 
could  deem  its  employment  important  to  his  own  opin¬ 
ions. 

The  tie  which  holds  together  Religion  and  Morality, 
is,  in  the  system  of  Butler,  somewhat  different  from  the 
common  representations,  but  not  less  close.  Conscience, 
or  the  faculty  of  approving  or  disapproving,  necessarily 
constitutes  the  bond  of  union.  Setting  out  from  the  be¬ 
lief  of  Theism,  and  combining  it,  as  he  had  entitled  him¬ 
self  to  do,  with  the  reality  of  conscience,  he  could  not 
avoid  discovering,  that  the  being  who  possessed  the  high¬ 
est  moral  qualities,  is  the  object  of  the  highest  moral 
affections.  He  contemplates  the  deity  through  the  moral 
nature  of  man.  In  the  case  of  a  being  who  is  to  be  per¬ 
fectly  loved,  (i  goodness  must  be  the  simple  actuating 
principle  within  him  ;  this  being  the  moral  quality  which 
is  the  immediate  object  of  love.”  “The  highest,  the 
adequate  object  of  this  affection,  is  perfect  goodness  ; 
which,  therefore,  we  are  to  love  with  all  our  heart,  with 
all  our  soul,  and  with  all  our  strength.”  “  We  should 
refer  ourselves  implicitly  to  him,  and  cast  ourselves  en¬ 
tirely  upon  him.  The  whole  attention  of  life  should  be 
to  obey  his  commands.”*  Moral  distinctions  are  thus 
presupposed  before  a  step  can  be  made  towards  religion: 
virtue  leads  to  piety ;  God  is  to  be  loved,  because  good- 


*  Sermon  xiii.  On  the  Love  of  God 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


119 


ness  is  the  object  of  love  ;  and  it  is  only  after  the  mind 
rises  through  human  morality  to  divine  perfection,  that 
all  the  virtues  and  duties  are  seen  to  hang  from  the 
throne  of  God. 


REMARKS. 

There  do  not  appear  to  be  any  errors  in  the  ethical 
principles  of  Butler.  The  following  remarks  are  intend¬ 
ed  to  point  out  some  defect  in  his  scheme;  and  even  that 
attempt  is  made  with  the  unfeigned  humility  of  one  who 
rejoices  in  an  opportunity  of  doing  justice  to  that  part 
of  the  writings  of  a  great  philosopher  which  has  not  been 
so  clearly  understood,  nor  so  justly  estimated  by  the  gen¬ 
erality,  as  his  other  works. 

1 .  It  is  a  considerable  defect,  though  perhaps  unavoid¬ 
able  in  a  sermon,  that  he  omits  all  inquiry  into  the  nature 
and  origin  of  the  private  appetites  which  first  appear  in 
human  nature.  It  is  implied,  but  it  is  not  expressed  in 
his  reasonings,  that  there  is  a  time  before  the  child  can 
be  called  selfish,  any  more  than  social,  when  these  appe¬ 
tites  seem  as  it  were  separately  to  pursue  their  distinct 
objects,  long  antecedent  to  the  state  of  mind  in  which  all 
their  gratifications  are  regarded  as  forming  the  mass  call¬ 
ed  happiness.  It  is  hence  that  they  are  likened  to  in¬ 
stincts,  in  contradiction  to  their  subsequent  distinction, 
which  requires  reason  and  experience.* 

2.  Butler  shows  admirably  well,  that  unless  there  were 
principles  of  action  independent  of  self,  there  could  be 
no  pleasures  and  no  happiness  for  self-love  to  watch  over. 
A  step  farther  would  have  led  him  to  perceive,  that  self- 
love  is  altogether  a  secondary  formation ;  the  result  of 
the  joint  operation  of  reason  and  habit  upon  the  primary 
principles.  It  could  not  have  existed  without  presup- 


*  The  very  able  work  ascribed  to  Mr  Hazlitt,  entitled  Essay  on  the  Prin¬ 
ciples  of  Human  Action,  Lond.  1805,  contains  original  views  on  this  subject. 


120 


PROGRESS  OF 


posing  original  appetites  and  organic  gratifications.  Had 
he  considered  this  part  of  the  subject,  he  would  have 
strengthened  his  case  by  showing  that  self-love  is  as  truly 
a  derived  principle,  not  only  as  any  of  the  social  affec¬ 
tions,  but  as  any  of  the  most  confessedly  acquired  pas¬ 
sions.  It  would  appear  clear,  that  as  self-love  is  not  di¬ 
vested  of  its  self-regarding  character  by  considering  it  as 
acquired,  so  the  social  affections  do  not  lose  any  part 
of  their  disinterested  character,  if  they  be  considered  as 
formed  from  simpler  elements.  Nothing  would  more 
tend  to  root  out  the  old  prejudice  which  treats  a  regard 
to  self  as  analogous  to  a  self-evident  principle,  than  the 
proof,  that  self-love  is  itself  formed  frQin  certain  original 
elements,  and  that  a  living  being  long  subsists  before  its 
appearance.* 

3.  It  must  be  owned  that  those  parts  of  Butler's  dis¬ 
courses  which  relate  to  the  social  affections  are  more  sat¬ 
isfactory  than  those  which  handle  the  question  concerning 
the  moral  sentiments.  It  is  not  that  the  real  existence  of 
the  latter  is  not  as  well  made  out  as  that  of  the  former. 
In  both  cases  he  occupies  the  unassailable  ground  of  an 
appeal  to  consciousness.  All  men  (even  the  worst)  feel 
that  they  have  a  conscience  and  disinterested  affections. 
But  he  betrays  a  sense  of  the  greater  vagueness  of  his  no¬ 
tions  on  this  subject.  He  falters  as  he  approaches  it. 
He  makes  no  attempt  to  determine  in  what  state  of  mind 
the  action  of  conscience  consists.  He  does  not  venture 
steadily  to  denote  it  by  a  name.  He  fluctuates  between 
different  appellations,  and  multiplies  the  metaphors  of 
authority  and  command,  without  a  simple  exposition  of 
that  mental  operation  which  these  metaphors  should  only 
have  illustrated.  It  commands  other  principles.  But 
the  question  recurs,  why,  or  how? 

Some  of  his  own  hints,  and  some  fainter  intimations  of 


*  Compare  this  statement  with  the  Stoical  doctrine  explained  by  Cicero 
in  the  book  de  Finibus,  quoted  above,  of  which  it  is  the  direct  opposite. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY.  121 

Shaftesbury,  might  have  led  him  to  what  appears  to  be 
the  true  solution ;  which,  perhaps  from  its  extreme  sim¬ 
plicity,  has  escaped  him  and  his  successors.  The  truth 
seems  to  be,  that  the  moral  sentiments  in  their  mature 
state,  are  a  class  of  feelings  which  have  no  other  object 
but  the  mental  dispositions  leading  to  voluntary  action , 
and  the  voluntary  actions  which  flow  from  these  dispo¬ 
sitions.  We  are  pleased  with  some  dispositions  and  ac¬ 
tions,  and  displeased  with  others,  in  ourselves  and  our 
fellows.  We  desire  to  cultivate  the  dispositions,  and  to 
perform  the  actions,  which  we  contemplate  with  satisfac¬ 
tion.  These  objects,  like  all  those  of  human  appetite  or 
desire,  are  sought  for  their  own  sake.  The  peculiarity 
of  these  desires  is,  that  their  gratification  requires  the 
use  of  no  means.  Nothing  (unless  it  be  a  volition)  is 
interposed  between  the  desire  and  the  voluntary  act.  It 
is  impossible,  therefore,  that  these  passions  should  under¬ 
go  any  change  by  transfer  from  the  end  to  the  means,  as 
is  the  case  with  other  practical  principles.  On  the  other 
hand,  as  soon  as  they  are  fixed  on  these  ends,  they  can¬ 
not  regard  any  further  object.  When  another  passion 
prevails  over  them,  the  end  of  the  moral  faculty  is  con¬ 
verted  into  a  means  of  gratification.  But  volitions  and 
actions  are  not  themselves  the  end,  or  last  object  in  view, 
of  any  other  desire  or  aversion.  Nothing  stands  between 
the  moral  sentiments  and  their  object.  They  are,  as  it 
were,  in  contact  with  the  will.  It  is  this  sort  of  mental 
position,  if  the  expression  may  be  pardoned,  that  ex¬ 
plains,  or  seems  to  explain,  those  characteristic  properties 
which  true  philosophers  ascribe  to  them,  and  which  all 
reflecting  men  feel  to  belong  to  them.  Being  the  only 
desires,  aversions,  sentiments,  or  emotions,  which  re¬ 
gard  dispositions  and  actions,  they  necessarily  extend  to 
the  whole  character  and  conduct.  Among  motives  to 
action,  they  alone  are  justly  considered  as  universal , 
They  may  and  do  stand  between  any  other  practical  prin^ 

Q 


122 


PROGRESS  OF 


ciple  and  its  object ;  while  it  is  absolutely  impossible  that 
another  shall  intercept  their  connexion  with  the  will. 
Be  it  observed,  that  though  many  passions  prevail  over 
them,  no  other  can  act  beyond  its  own  appointed  and 
limited  sphere ;  and  that  the  prevalence  itself,  leaving 
the  natural  order  undisturbed  in  any  other  part  of  the 
mind,  is  perceived  to  be  a  disorder,  when  seen  in  another 
man,  and  felt  to  be  so  by  the  mind  disordered,  when  the 
disorder  subsides.  Conscience  may  forbid  the  will  to 
contribute  to  the  gratification  of  a  desire.  No  desire 
ever  forbids  will  to  obey  conscience. 

This  result  of  the  peculiar  relation  of  conscience  to  the 
will,  justifies  those  metaphorical  expressions  which  as¬ 
cribe  to  it  authority  and  the  right  of  universal  com¬ 
mand.  It  is  immutable ;  for,  by  the  law  which  regulates 
all  feelings,  it  must  rest  on  action ,  which  is  its  object, 
and  beyond  which  it  cannot  look  ;  and  as  it  employs  no 
means ,  it  never  can  be  transferred  to  nearer  objects,  in 
the  way  in  which  he  who  first  desires  an  object  as  a  means 
of  gratification,  may  come  to  seek  it  as  his  end.  Another 
remarkable  peculiarity  is  bestowed  on  the  moral  feelings 
by  the  nature  of  their  object.  As  the  objects  of  all  other 
desires  are  outward,  the  satisfaction  of  them  may  be  frus¬ 
trated  by  outward  causes.  The  moral  sentiments  may 
always  be  gratified,  because  voluntary  actions  and  moral 
dispositions  spring  from  within.  No  external  circum¬ 
stance  affects  them.  Hence  their  independence.  As 
the  moral  sentiment  needs  no  means,  and  the  desire  is 
instantaneously  followed  by  the  volition,  it  seems  to  be 
either  that  which  first  suggests  the  relation  between 
command  and  obedience ,  or  at  least  that  which  affords  the 
simplest  instance  of  it.  It  is  therefore  with  the  most 
rigorous  precision  that  authority  and  universality  are  as¬ 
cribed  to  them.  Their  only  unfortunate  property  is 
their  too  frequent  weakness;  but  it  is  apparent  that  it  is 
from  that  circumstance  alone  that  their  failure  arises. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


123 


Thus  considered,  the  language  of  Butler  concerning  con¬ 
science,  that,  “  had  it  strength  as  it  has  right,  it  would 
govern  the  world, ”  which  may  seem  to  be  only  an  effu¬ 
sion  of  generous  feeling,  proves  to  be  a  just  statement  of 
the  nature  and  action  of  the  highest  of  human  faculties. 
The  union  of  universality,  and  immutability,  and  inde¬ 
pendence,  with  direct  action  on  the  will,  which  distin¬ 
guishes  the  moral  sense  from  every  other  part  of  our 
practical  nature,  renders  it  scarcely  metaphorical  lan-  / 
guage  to  ascribe  to  it  unbounded  sovereignty  and  awful  \ 
authority  over  the  whole  of  the  world  within; — shows 
that  attributes,  well  denoted  by  terms  significant  of  com¬ 
mand  and  control,  are,  in  fact,  inseparable  from  it,  or 
rather  constitute  its  very  essence ; — justifies  those  an¬ 
cient  moralists  who  represent  it  as  alone  securing,  if  not 
forming  the  moral  liberty  of  man  ;  and  finally,  when  re¬ 
ligion  rises  from  its  roots  in  virtuous  feeling,  it  clothes 
conscience  with  the  sublime  character  of  representing 
the  divine  purity  and  majesty  in  the  human  soul.  Its 
title  is  not  impaired  by  any  number  of  defeats  ;  for  every 
defeat  necessarily  disposes  the  disinterested  and  dispas¬ 
sionate  by-stander  to  wish  that  its  force  were  strength¬ 
ened:  and  though  it  may  be  doubted  whether,  consistent¬ 
ly  with  the  present  constitution  of  human  nature,  it  could  \ 
be  so  invigorated  as  to  be  the  only  motive  to  action,  yet 
every  such  by-stander  rejoices  at  all  accessions  to  its  force; 
and  would  own,  that  man  becomes  happier,  more  excel¬ 
lent,  more  estimable,  more  venerable,  in  proportion  as 
conscience  acquires  a  power  of  banishing  malevolent  pas¬ 
sions,  of  strongly  curbing  all  the  private  appetites,  of  in¬ 
fluencing  and  guiding  the  benevolent  affections  them¬ 
selves. 

Let  it  be  carefully  considered  whether  the  same  ob¬ 
servations  could  be  made  with  truth,  or  with  plausibili¬ 
ty,  on  any  other  part  or  element  of  the  nature  of  man. 
They  are  entirely  independent  of  the  question,  whether 


124 


PROGRESS  OF 


conscience  be  an  inherent  or  an  acquired  principle.  If 
it  be  inherent,  that  circumstance  is,  according  to  the 
common  modes  of  thinking,  a  sufficient  proof  of  its  title 
to  veneration.  But  if  provision  be  made  in  the  consti¬ 
tution  and  circumstances  of  all  men,  for  uniformly  pro¬ 
ducing  it,  by  processes  similar  to  those  which  produce 
other  acquired  sentiments,  may  not  our  reverence  be 
augmented  by  admiration  of  that  supreme  wisdom  which, 
in  such  mental  contrivances,  yet  more  brightly  than  in 
the  lower  world  of  matter,  accomplishes  mighty  purposes 
by  instruments  so  simple?  Should  these  speculations  be 
thought  to  have  any  solidity  by  those  who  are  accustom¬ 
ed  to  such  subjects,  it  would  be  easy  to  unfold  and  apply 
them  so  fully,  that  they  may  be  thoroughly  apprehend¬ 
ed  by  every  intelligent  person. 

4.  The  most  palpable  defect  of  Butler’s  scheme  is, 
that  it  affords  no  answer  to  the  question,  61  What  is  the 
distinguishing  quality  common  to  all  right  actions?”  If 
it  were  answered,  61  Their  criterion  is,  that  they  are  ap¬ 
proved  and  commanded  by  conscience,”  the  answerer 
would  find  that  he  was  involved  in  a  vicious  circle  ;  for 
conscience  itself  could  be  no  otherwise  defined  than  as 
the  faculty  which  approves  and  commands  right  actions. 

There  are  few  circumstances  more  remarkable  than 
the  small  number  of  Butler’s  followers  in  Ethics 5  and  it 
is  perhaps  still  more  observable,  that  his  opinions  were 
not  so  much  rejected  as  overlooked.  It  is  an  instance 
of  the  importance  of  style.  No  thinker  so  great  was 
ever  so  bad  a  writer.  Indeed,  the  ingenious  apologies 
which  have  been  lately  attempted  for  this  defect,  amount 
to  no  more  than  that  his  power  of  thought  was  too  much 
for  his  skill  in  language.  How  general  must  the  recep¬ 
tion  have  been  of  truths  so  certain  and  momentous  as 
those  contained  in  Butler’s  Discourses, — with  how  much 
more  clearness  must  they  have  appeared  to  his  own  great 
understanding,  if  he  had  possessed  the  strength  and  dis- 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


125 


tinctness  with  which  Hobbes  enforces  odious  falsehood, 
or  the  unspeakable  charm  of  that  transparent  diction 
which  clothed  the  unfruitful  paradoxes  of  Berkeley  ! 

HUTCHESON.* 

This  ingenious  writer  began  to  try  his  own  strength 
by  private  Letters,  written  in  his  early  youth  to  Dr 
Clarke,  the  metaphysical  patriarch  of  his  time  ;  on  whom 
young  philosophers  seem  to  have  considered  themselves 
as  possessing  a  claim,  which  he  had  too  much  goodness  to 
reject.  His  correspondence  with  Hutcheson  is  lost ;  but 
we  may  judge  of  its  spirit  by  his  answers  to  Butler,  and 
by  one  to  Mr  Henry  Home,t  afterwards  Lord  Karnes, 
then  a  young  adventurer  in  the  prevalent  speculations. 
Nearly  at  the  same  period  with  Butler’s  first  publica¬ 
tion, J  the  writings  of  Hutcheson  began  to  show  coinci¬ 
dences  with  him,  indicative  of  the  tendency  of  moral  the¬ 
ory  to  a  new  form,  to  which  an  impulse  had  been  given 
by  Shaftesbury,  and  which  was  roused  to  activity  by  the 
adverse  system  of  Clarke.  Lord  Molesworth,  the  friend 
of  Shaftesbury,  patronised  Hutcheson,  and  even  criticis¬ 
ed  his  manuscript.  Thougli  a  Presbyterian,  he  was  be¬ 
friended  by  King,  archbishop  of  Dublin,  himself  a  meta¬ 
physician;  and  he  was  aided  by  Mr  Synge,  afterwards  a 
bishop,  to  whom  speculations  somewhat  similar  to  his  own 
had  occurred. 

Butler  and  Hutcheson  coincided  in  the  two  impor¬ 
tant  positions,  that  disinterested  affections,  and  a  distinct 
moral  faculty,  are  essential  parts  of  human  nature.  Hut- 
*  « 

*  Born  in  Ireland  in  1694;  died  at  Glasgow  in  1747. 

■j-  Woodhouselee’s  Life  of  Lord  Karnes,  Vol.  I.  Append.  No.  3. 

^  The  first  edition  of  Butler’s  Sermons  was  published  in  1726,  in  which 
year  also  appeared  the  second  edition  of  Hutcheson’s  Inquiry  into  Beauty 
and  Virtue.  The  Sermons  had  been  preached  some  years  before,  though 
there  is  no  likelihood  that  the  contents  could  have  reached  a  young  teacher 
at  Dublin.  The  place  of  Hutcheson’s  birth  is  not  mentioned  in  any  ac¬ 
count  known  to  me.  Ireland  may  be  truly  said  to  be  (,incuriosa  suorum .” 


126 


PROGRESS  OF 


cheson  is  a  chaste  and  simple  writer,  who  imbibed  the 
opinions,  without  the  literary  faults  of  his  master,  Shaftes¬ 
bury.  He  has  a  clearness  of  expression,  and  fulness  of 
illustration,  which  are  wanting  in  Butler.  But  he  is  in¬ 
ferior  to  both  these  writers  in  the  appearance  at  least  of 
originality,  and  to  Butler  especially  in  that  philosophi¬ 
cal  courage  which,  when  it  discovers  the  fountains  of 
truth  and  falsehood,  leaves  others  to  follow  the  streams. 
He  states  as  strongly  as  Butler,  that  “  the  same  cause 
which  determines  us  to  pursue  happiness  for  ourselves, 
determines  us  both  to  esteem  and  benevolence  on  their 
proper  occasions — even  the  very  frame  of  our  nature.”* 
It  is  vain,  as  he  justly  observes,  for  the  patrons  of  a  re¬ 
fined  selfishness  to  pretend  that  we  pursue  the  happiness 
of  others  for  the  sake  of  the  pleasure  which  we  derive 
from  it ;  since  it  is  apparent  that  there  could  be  no  such 
pleasure  if  there  had  been  no  previous  affection.  “  Had 
we  no  affection  distinct  from  self-love,  nothing  could 
raise  a  desire  of  the  happiness  of  others,  but  when  view¬ 
ed  as  a  mean  of  our  own.”f  He  seems  to  have  been  the 
first  who  entertained  just  notions  of  the  formation  of  the 
secondary  desires,  which  had  been  overlooked  by  But¬ 
ler.  ((  There  must  arise,  in  consequence  of  our  origi¬ 
nal  desires,  secondary  desires  of  every  thing  useful  to 
gratify  the  primary  desire.  Thus,  as  soon  as  we  ap¬ 
prehend  the  use  of  wealth  or  power  to  gratify  our 
original  desires,  we  also  desire  them.  From  their  uni¬ 
versality  as  means  arises  the  general  prevalence  of  these 
desires  of  wealth  and  power.”:}:  Proceeding  farther 
in  his  zeal  against  the  selfish  system  than  Lord  Shaftes¬ 
bury,  who  seems  ultimately  to  rest  the  reasonableness 
of  benevolence  on  its  subserviency  to  the  happiness  of 
the  individual,  he  represents  the  moral  faculty  to  be, 


•  Inquiry,  p.  152. 
f  Essay  on  the  Passions,  p.  17. 
i  Ibid.  p.  8. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


127 


as  well  as  self-love  and  benevolence,  a  calm  general  im¬ 
pulse,  which  may  and  does  impel  a  good  man  to  sacrifice 
not  only  happiness,  but  even  life  itself,  to  virtue. 

As  Mr  Locke  had  spoken  of  an  internal  sensation, — 
Lord  Shaftesbury  once  or  twice  of  a  reflex  sense,  and 
once  of  a  moral  sense, — Hutcheson,  who  had  a  steadier, 
if  not  a  clearer  view  of  the  nature  of  conscience  than  But¬ 
ler,  calls  it  a  Moral  Sense;  a  name  which  quickly  be¬ 
came  popular,  and  continues  to  be  a  part  of  philosophi¬ 
cal  language.  By  sense ,  he  understood  a  capacity  of 
receiving  ideas,  together  with  pleasures  and  pains,  from 
a  class  of  objects.  The  term  moral  was  used  to  describe 
the  particular  class  in  question.  It  implied  only  that 
conscience  was  a  separate  element  in  our  nature,  and  that 
it  was  not  a  state  or  act  of  the  understanding.  Accord¬ 
ing  to  him,  it  also  implied  that  it  was  an  original  and  im¬ 
planted  principle ;  but  every  other  part  of  his  theory 
might  be  embraced  by  those  who  hold  it  to  be  derivative. 

The  object  of  moral  approbation,  according  to  him, 
is  general  benevolence  ;  and  he  carries  this  generous 
error  so  far  as  to  deny  that  prudence,  as  long  as  it  re¬ 
gards  ourselves,  can  be  morally  approved  ; — an  assertion 
contradicted  by  every  man’s  feelings,  and  to  which  we 
owe  the  Dissertation  on  the  Nature  of  Virtue  which  But¬ 
ler  annexed  to  his  Analogy.  By  proving  that  all  virtuous 
actions  produce  general  good,  he  fancied  that  he  had 
proved  the  necessity  of  regarding  the  general  good  in 
every  act  of  virtue  ; — an  instance  of  that  confusion  of 
the  theory  of  moral  sentiments  with  the  criterion  of 
moral  actions,  against  vThieh  the  reader  was  warned  at 
the  opening  of  this  Dissertation,  as  fatal  toEthieal  Philo¬ 
sophy.  He  is  chargeable,  like  Butler,  with  a  vicious 
circle,  in  describing  virtuous  acts  as  those  which  are 
approved  by  the  moral  sense,  while  he  at  the  same  time 
describes  the  moral  sense  as  the  faculty  which  perceives 
and  feels  the  morality  of  actions. 


128 


PROGRESS  OF 


He  was  the  father  of  speculative  philosophy  in  Scot¬ 
land,  at  least  in  modern  times  ;  for  though  in  the  begin¬ 
ning  of  the  sixteenth  century  the  Scotch  are  said  to  have 
been  known  throughout  Europe  by  their  unmeasured 
passion  for  dialectical  subtilties,*  and  though  this  me¬ 
taphysical  taste  was  nourished  by  the  controversies 
which  followed  the  Reformation,  yet  it  languished,  with 
every  other  intellectual  taste  and  talent,  from  the  Resto¬ 
ration,  first  silenced  by  civil  disorders,  and  afterwards 
repressed  by  an  exemplary  but  unlettered  clergy,  till 
the  philosophy  of  Shaftesbury  was  brought  by  Hutche¬ 
son  from  Ireland.  We  are  told  by  the  writer  of  his 
Life  (a  fine  piece  of  philosophical  biography),  that  u  he 
had  a  remarkable  degree  of  rational  enthusiasm  for 
learning,  liberty,  religion,  virtue,  and  human  happi¬ 
ness  ;”+  that  he  taught  in  public  with  persuasive  elo¬ 
quence  ;  that  his  instructive  conversation  was  at  once 
lively  and  modest ;  that  he  united  pure  manners  with  a 
kind  disposition.  What  wonder  that  such  a  man  should 
have  spread  the  love  of  knowledge  and  virtue  around 
him,  and  should  have  rekindled  in  his  adopted  country 
a  relish  for  the  sciences  which  he  cultivated!  To  him 


*  The  character  given  of  the  Scotch  by  the  famous  and  unfortunate 
Servetus,  in  his  edition  of  Ptolemy,  (15.33),  is  in  many  respects  curious. 
“  Gallis  amicissimi,  Anglorumque  regi  maxime  infesti.  Subita  ingenia,  et 
in  ultionem  prona,  ferociaque.  In  bello  fortes,  mediae,  vigiliae,  algoris  pa- 
tientissimi,  decenti  forma  sed  cultu  negligentiori;  invidi  natura  et  caeterorum 
mortalium  contemp tores;  ostentant  plus  nimio  nobilitatem  suarn,  et  in  summa 
etiarn  egestate  suum  genus  ad  regiam  stirpem  referunt,  xi:c  non  diaeecticis 
augutiis  sibi  busditotdii.” — Subita  ingenia  is  an  expression  equivalent 
to  the  “  Praefervidum  Scotorum  ingenium”  of  Buchanan.  Churchill  almost 
agrees  in  words  with  Servetus: 

Whose  lineage  springs 

From  great  and  glorious,  though  forgotten  kings. 

And  the  strong  antipathy  of  the  late  King  George  III.  to  what  he  called 
“  Scotch  Metaphysics,”  proves  the  permanency  of  the  last  part  of  the  na¬ 
tional  character. 

t  Life  by  Dr  Lef.chjiav,  prefixed  to  Hutcheson’s  System  of  Moral  Phi¬ 
losophy,  1 755- 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


129 


may  also  be  ascribed  that  proneness  to  multiply  ultimate 
and  original  principles  in  human  nature,  which  charac¬ 
terized  the  Scottish  School  till  the  second  extinction  of 
a  passion  for  metaphysical  speculation  in  Scotland.  A 
careful  perusal  of  the  writings  of  this  now  little  studied 
philosopher  will  satisfy  the  well-qualified  reader,  that 
Dr  Adam  Smitlrs  ethical  speculations  are  not  so  unsug¬ 
gested  as  they  are  beautiful. 

BERKELEY.* 

This  great  metaphysician  was  so  little  a  moralist,  that 
it  requires  the  attraction  of  his  name  to  excuse  its  intro¬ 
duction  here.  His  Theory  of  Vision  contains  a  great 
discovery  in  mental  philosophy.  His  immaterialism  is 
chiefly  valuable  as  a  touchstone  of  metaphysical  sagacity; 
showing  those  to  be  altogether  without  it,  who,  like  John¬ 
son  and  Beattie,  believed  that  his  speculations  were 
sceptical,  that  they  implied  any  distrust  in  the  senses, 
or  that  they  had  the  smallest  tendency  to  disturb  reason¬ 
ing  or  alter  conduct.  Ancient  learning,  exact  science, 
polished  society,  modern  literature,  and  the  fine  arts, 
contributed  to  adorn  and  enrich  the  mind  of  this  accom¬ 
plished  man.  All  his  contemporaries  agreed  with  the 
satirist  in  ascribing 

To  Berkeley  every  virtue  under  heaven. 

Adverse  factions  and  hostile  wits  concurred  only  in  lov¬ 
ing,  admiring,  and  contributing  to  advance  him.  The 
severe  sense  of  Swift  endured  his  visions;  the  modest 
Addison  endeavoured  to  reconcile  Clarke  to  his  ambi¬ 
tious  speculations.  His  character  converted  the  satire  of 
Pope  into  fervid  praise.  Even  the  discerning,  fastidi¬ 
ous,  and  turbulent  Atterbury  said,  after  an  interview 
with  him,  “  So  much  understanding,  so  much  know- 


Born  near  Thomastown  in  Ireland,  in  1684;  died  at  Oxford  in  1753. 

R 


130 


PROGRESS  OF 


ledge,  so  much  innocence,  and  such  humility,  I  did  not 
think  had  been  the  portion  of  any  but  angels,  till  I  saw 
this  gentleman.7’*  “  Lord  Bathurst  told  me,  that  the 
Members  of  the  Scriblerus  Club  being  met  at  his  house 
at  dinner,  they  agreed  to  rally  Berkeley,  who  was  also 
his  guest,  on  his  scheme  at  Bermudas.  Berkeley,  hav¬ 
ing  listened  to  the  many  lively  things  they  had  to  say, 
begged  to  be  heard  in  his  turn,  and  displayed  his  plan 
with  such  an  astonishing  and  animating  force  of  eloquence 
and  enthusiasm,  that  they  were  struck  dumb,  and  after 
some  pause,  rose  all  up  together,  with  earnestness  ex¬ 
claiming,  6i  Let  us  set  out  with  him  immediately.77!  It 
was  when  thus  beloved  and  celebrated  that  he  conceived, 
at  the  age  of  forty -five,  the  design  of  devoting  his  life  to 
reclaim  and  convert  the  natives  of  North  America ;  and 
he  employed  as  much  influence  and  solicitation  as  common 
men  do  for  their  most  prized  objects,  in  obtaining  leave 
to  resign  his  dignities  and  revenues,  to  quit  his  accom¬ 
plished  and  affectionate  friends,  and  to  bury  himself  in 
what  must  have  seemed  an  intellectual  desert.  After 
four  years7  residence  at  Newport  in  Rhode  Island,  he 
was  compelled,  by  the  refusal  of  Government  to  furnish 
him  with  funds  for  his  College,  to  forego  his  work  of  he¬ 
roic,  or  rather  godlike  benevolence;  though  not  without 
some  consoling  forethought  of  the  fortune  of  the  country 
where  he  had  sojourned. 

Westward  the  course  of  empire  takes  its  way, 

The  first  four  acts  already  past, 

A  fifth  shall  close  the  drama  with  the  day, 

Time’s  noblest  ofespbinb  is  its  east. 

Thus  disappointed  in  his  ambition  of  keeping  a  school 
for  savage  children,  at  a  salary  of  a  hundred  pounds  by 
the  year,  he  was  received,  on  his  return,  with  open 

*  Dcncombe’s  Letters ,  106,  107. 
f  Warton  on  Pope. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


131 


arms  by  the  philosophical  queen,  at  whose  metaphysical 
parties  he  made  one  with  Sherlock,  who,  as  well  as  Smal- 
ridge,  was  his  supporter,  and  with  Hoadley,  who,  fol¬ 
lowing  Clarke,  was  his  antagonist.  By  her  influence  he 
was  made  bishop  of  Cloyne.  It  is  one  of  his  highest 
boasts,  that  though  of  English  extraction,  he  was  a  true 
Irishman,  and  the  first  eminent  Protestant,  after  the  un¬ 
happy  contest  at  the  Revolution,  who  avowed  his  love 
for  all  his  countrymen.  He  asked,  “  Whether  their 
habitations  and  furniture  were  not  more  sordid  than 
those  of  the  savage  Americans?’**  u  Whether  a  scheme 
for  the  welfare  of  this  nation  should  not  take  in  the 
whole  inhabitants  ?”  and,  “  Whether  it  was  a  vain  at¬ 
tempt. i  to  project  the  flourishing  of  our  Protestant  gentry, 
exclusive  of  the  bulk  of  the  natives  P” f  He  proceeds  to 
promote  the  reformation  suggested  in  this  pregnant  ques¬ 
tion  by  a  series  of  queries,  intimating,  with  the  utmost 
skill  and  address,  every  reason  that  proves  the  necessity, 
and  the  safety,  and  the  wisest  mode  of  adopting  his  sug¬ 
gestion.  He  contributed,  by  a  truly  Christian  address 
to  the  Roman  Catholics  of  his  diocese,  to  their  perfect 
quiet  during  the  rebellion  of  1745  ;  and  soon  after  pub¬ 
lished  a  letter  to  the  clergy  of  that  persuasion,  beseech¬ 
ing  them  to  inculcate  industry  among  their  flocks,  for 
which  he  received  their  thanks.  He  tells  them,  that  it 
was  a  saying  among  the  negro  slaves,  “  if  negro  were  not 
negro ,  Irishman  would  be  negro”  It  is  difficult  to  read 
these  proofs  of  benevolence  and  foresight  without  emo¬ 
tion,  at  the  moment  when,!  after  the  lapse  of  near  a  cen¬ 
tury,  his  suggestions  have  been  at  length,  at  the  close  of 
a  struggle  of  twenty-five  years,  adopted  by  the  admis¬ 
sion  of  the  whole  Irish  nation  to  the  privileges  of  the 
British  Constitution.  The  patriotism  of  Berkeley  was 

*  See  his  Querist,  358 ;  published  in  1735. 

f  Ibid.  255. 

*  April  1829. 


132 


PROGRESS  OF 


not,  like  that  of  Swift,  tainted  by  disappointed  ambition  Y 
nor  was  it,  like  Swift’s,  confined  to  a  colony  of  English 
Protestants.  Perhaps  the  Querist  contains  more  hints, 
then  original,  still  unapplied  in  legislation  and  political 
economy,  than  are  to  be  found  in  any  equal  space.  From 
the  writings  of  his  advanced  years,  when  he  chose  a  medi¬ 
cal  Tract,*  to  be  the  vehicle  of  his  philosophical  reflec¬ 
tions,  though  it  cannot  be  said  that  he  relinquished  his 
early  opinions,  it  is  at  least  apparent  that  his  mind  had 
received  a  new  bent,  and  was  habitually  turned  from 
reasoning  towards  contemplation.  His  immaterialism  in¬ 
deed  modestly  appears,  but  only  to  purify  and  elevate  our 
thoughts,  and  to  fix  them  on  Mind,  the  paramount  and 
primeval  principle  of  all  things.  “  Perhaps,”  says  he, 
“the  truth  about  innate  ideas  maybe,  that  there  are  pro¬ 
perly  no  ideas  or  passive  objects  in  the  mind  but  what  are 
derived  from  sense,  but  that  there  are  also,  besides  these, 
her  own  acts  and  operations — such  are  notions;”  a  state¬ 
ment  which  seems  once  more  to  admit  general  concep¬ 
tions,  and  which  might  have  served,  as  well  as  the  par¬ 
allel  passage  of  Leibnitz,  as  the  basis  of  the  modern  phi¬ 
losophy  of  Germany.  From  these  compositions  of  his  old 
age,  he  appears  then  to  have  recurred  with  fondness  to 
Plato  and  the  later  Platonists ;  writers  from  whose  mere 
reasonings  an  intellect  so  acute  could  hardly  hope  for 
an  argumentative  satisfaction  of  all  its  difficulties,  and 
whom  he  probably  rather  studied  as  a  means  of  inuring 
his  mind  to  objects  beyond  the  visible  diurnal  sphere, 
and  of  attaching  it,  through  frequent  meditation,  to  that 
perfect  and  transcendent  goodness  to  which  his  moral 
leelings  always  pointed,  and  which  they  incessantly 
strove  to  grasp.  His  mind,  enlarging  as  it  rose,  at  length 
receives  every  theist,  however  imperfect  his  belief,  to  a 
communion  in  its  philosophic  piety.  “Truth,”  he  beau- 


*  Sir  is,  or  Reflections  on  Tar  Water. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


133 


tifully  concludes,  “  is  the  cry  of  all,  but  the  game  of  a 
few.  Certainly,  where  it  is  the  chief  passion,  it  does 
not  give  way  to  vulgar  cares,  nor  is  it  contented  with  a 
little  ardour  in  the  early  time  of  life ;  active  perhaps  to 
pursue,  but  not  so  fit  to  weigh  and  revise.  He  that  | 
would  make  a  real  progress  in  knowledge,  must  dedicate 
his  age  as  well  as  youth,  the  later  growth  as  well  as  first 
fruits,  at  the  altar  of  Truth.77  So  did  Berkeley,  and 
such  were  almost  his  latest  words. 

His  general  principles  of  ethics  may  be  shortly  stated 
in  his  own  words : — “  As  God  is  a  being  of  infinite  good¬ 
ness,  his  end  is  the  good  of  his  creatures.  The  general 
wellbeing  of  all  men  of  all  nations,  of  all  ages  of  the  world, 
is  that  which  he  designs  should  be  procured  by  the  con¬ 
curring  actions  of  each  individual.’7  Having  stated  that 
this  end  can  be  pursued  only  in  one  of  two  ways — either 
by  computing  the  consequences  of  each  action,  or  by 
obeying  rules  which  generally  tend  to  happiness — and 
having  shown  the  first  to  be  impossible,  he  rightly  infers, 
“  that  the  end  to  which  God  requires  the  concurrence 
of  human  actions,  must  be  carried  on  by  the  observation 
of  certain  determinate  and  universal  rules  or  moral  pre¬ 
cepts,  which  in  their  own  nature  have  a  necessary 
tendency  to  promote  the  wellbeing  of  mankind,  taking 
in  all  nations  and  ages,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of 
the  world.77*  A  romance,  of  which  a  journey  to  an 
Utopia,  in  the  centre  of  Africa,  forms  the  chief  part, 
called  The  Adventures  of  Signor  Gaudentio  di  Lucca , 
has  been  commonly  ascribed  to  him  ;  probably  on  no 
other  ground  than  its  union  of  pleasing  invention  with 
benevolence  and  elegance. f  Of  the  exquisite  grace  and 
beauty  of  his  diction,  no  man  accustomed  to  English  com¬ 
position  can  need  to  be  informed.  His  works  are,  be¬ 
yond  dispute,  the  finest  models  of  philosophical  style 

*  Sermon  in  Trinity  College  Chapel,  on  Passive  Obedience,  1712. 

f  Gentleman's  Magazine ,  January  1777. 


134 


PROGRESS  OF 


since  Cicero.  Perhaps  they  surpass  those  of  the  orator, 
in  the  wonderful  art  by  which  the  fullest  light  is  thrown 
on  the  most  minute  and  evanescent  parts  of  the  most 
subtile  of  human  conceptions.  Perhaps  he  also  surpass¬ 
ed  Cicero  in  the  charm  of  simplicity,  a  quality  eminently 
found  in  Irish  writers  before  the  end  of  the  eighteenth 
century;  conspicuous  in  the  masculine  severity  of  Swift, 
in  the  Platonic  fancy  of  Berkeley,  in  the  native  tender¬ 
ness  and  elegance  of  Goldsmith,  and  not  withholding  its 
attractions  from  Hutcheson  and  Leland,  writers  of  clas¬ 
sical  taste,  though  of  inferior  power.  The  two  Irish 
philosophers  of  the  eighteenth  century  may  be  said  to 
have  co-operated  in  calling  forth  the  metaphysical  ge¬ 
nius  of  Scotland  ;  for  though  Hutcheson  spread  the  taste, 
and  furnished  the  principles,  yet  Berkeley  undoubtedly 
produced  the  scepticism  of  Hume,  which  stimulated  the 
instinctive  school  to  activity,  and  was  thought  incapa¬ 
ble  of  confutation,  otherwise  than  by  their  doctrines. 

David  Hume.* 

The  Life  of  Mr  Hume,  written  by  himself,  is  remark¬ 
able  above  most,  if  not  all  writings  of  that  sort,  for  hitting 
the  degree  of  interest  between  coldness  and  egotism  which 
becomes  a  modest  man  in  speaking  of  his  private  history. 
Few  writers,  whose  opinions  were  so  obnoxious,  have 
more  perfectly  escaped  every  personal  imputation. 
Very  few  men  of  so  calm  a  character  have  been  so 
warmly  beloved.  That  he^  approached  to  the  character 
of  a  perfectly  good  and  wise  man,  is  an  affectionate  ex¬ 
aggeration,  for  which  his  friend  Dr  Smith,  in  the  first 
moments  of  his  sorrow,  may  well  be  excused. f  But  such 
a  praise  can  never  be  earned  without  passing  through 
either  of  the  extremes  of  fortune  ;  without  standing  the 


*  Born  at  Edinburgh  in  1711;  died  there  in  1776. 
f  Dr  Smith’s  Letter  to  Mr  Strahan,  annexed  to  the  Life  of  Hume. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


135 


test  of  temptations,  dangers  and  sacrifices.  It  may  be 
said  with  truth,  that  the  private  character  of  Mr  Hume 
exhibited  all  the  virtues  which  a  man  of  reputable  sta¬ 
tion,  under  a  mild  government,  in  the  quiet  times  of  a 
civilized  country,  has  often  the  opportunity  to  practise. 
He  showed  no  want  of  the  qualities  which  fit  men  for 
more  severe  trials.  Though  others  had  warmer  affec¬ 
tions,  no  man  was  a  kinder  relation,  a  more  unwearied 
friend,  or  more  free  from  meanness  and  malice.  His 
character  was  so  simple,  that  he  did  not  even  affect  mo¬ 
desty  ;  hut  neither  his  friendships  nor  his  deport¬ 
ment  were  changed  by  a  fame  which  filled  all  Eu¬ 
rope.  His  good  nature,  his  plain  manners,  and  his 
active  kindness,  procured  him  at  Paris  the  enviable 
name  of  the  good  David ,  from  a  society  not  so  alive 
to  goodness,  as  without  reason  to  place  it  at  the  head  of 
the  qualities  of  a  celebrated  man.*  His  whole  charac¬ 
ter  is  faithfully  and  touchingly  represented  in  the  story 
of  La  Roche, f  where  Mr  Mackenzie,  without  conceal¬ 
ing  Mr  Hume’s  opinions,  brings  him  into  contact  with 
scenes  of  tender  piety,  and  yet  preserves  the  interest  in¬ 
spired  by  genuine  and  unalloyed,  though  moderated 
feelings  and  affections.  The  amiable  and  venerable  pa¬ 
triarch  of  Scottish  literature  was  averse  from  the  opin¬ 
ions  of  the  philosopher  on  whom  he  has  composed  this 
best  panegyric.  He  tells  us  that  he  read  the  manu¬ 
script  to  Dr  Smith,  i{  who  declared  he  did  not  find  a 
syllable  to  object  to,  but  added,  with  his  characteristic 
absence  of  mind,  that  he  was  surprised  he  had  never 
heard  of  the  anecdote  before.”;}:  So  lively  was  the  de¬ 
lineation  thus  sanctioned  by  the  most  natural  of  all  testi¬ 
monies.  Mr  Mackenzie  indulges  his  own  religious  feel¬ 
ings  by  modestly  intimating,  that  Dr  Smith’s  answer 
seemed  to  justify  the  last  words  of  the  tale,  66  that  there 


*  See  Notes  and  Illustrations,  note  P- 
I  Mirror,  Nos.  42,  43,  44. 
t  Mackenzie’s  Life  of  John  Home ,  p.  21  • 


136 


PROGRESS  OF 


were  moments  when  the  philosopher  recalled  to  his  mind 
the  venerable  figure  of  the  good  La  Roche,  and  wished 
that  he  had  never  doubted. ”  To  those  who  are  stran¬ 
gers  to  the  seductions  of  paradox,  to  the  intoxication  of 
fame,  and  to  the  bewitchment  of  prohibited  opinions,  it 
must  be  unaccountable,  that  he  who  revered  benevolence 
should,  without  apparent  regret,  cease  to  see  it  on  the 
Throne  of  the  Universe.  It  is  a  matter  of  wonder  that 
his  habitual  esteem  for  every  fragment,  and  shadow  of 
moral  excellence  should  not  lead  him  to  envy  those  who 
contemplated  its  perfection  in  that  living  and  paternal 
character  which  gives  it  a  power  over  the  human  heart. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  we  had  no  experience  of  the 
power  of  opposite  opinions  in  producing  irreconcilable 
animosities,  we  might  have  hoped  that  those  who  retained 
such  high  privileges  would  have  looked  with  more  com¬ 
passion  than  dislike  on  a  virtuous  man  who  had  lost  them. 

In  such  cases  it  is  too  little  remembered,  that  repug¬ 
nance  to  hypocrisy,  and  impatience  of  long  concealment, 
are  the  qualities  of  the  best  formed  minds  ;  and  that,  if 
the  publication  of  some  doctrines  proves  often  painful 
and  mischievous,  the  habitual  suppression  of  opinion  is 
injurious  to  reason,  and  very  dangerous  to  sincerity. 
Practical  questions  thus  arise,  so  difficult  and  perplexing, 
that  their  determination  generally  depends  on  the  bold¬ 
ness  or  timidity  of  the  individual, — on  his  tenderness 
for  the  feelings  of  the  good,  or  his  greater  reverence 
for  the  free  exercise  of  reason.  The  time  is  not  yet 
come  when  the  noble  maxim  of  Plato,  (( that  every  soul 
is  unwillingly  deprived  of  truth,”  will  be  practically 
and  heartily  applied  by  men  to  the  honest  opponents 
who  differ  from  them  most  widely. 

In  his  twenty-seventh  year  he  published  at  London 
the  Treatise  of  Human  JYature ,  the  first  systematic  at¬ 
tack  on  all  the  principles  of  knowledge  and  belief,  and 
the  most  formidable,  if  universal  scepticism  could  ever 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


137 


be  more  than  a  mere  exercise  of  ingenuity.*  This 
memorable  work  was  reviewed  in  a  Journal  of  that  time,f 
in  a  criticism  not  distinguished  by  ability,  which  affects 
to  represent  the  style  of  a  very  clear  writer  as  unintel¬ 
ligible — sometimes  from  a  purpose  to  insult,  but  oftener 
from  sheer  dulness — which  is  unaccountably  silent  res¬ 
pecting  the  consequences  of  a  sceptical  system  ;  and 
which  concludes  with  a  prophecy  so  much  at  variance 
with  the  general  tone  of  the  article,  that  it  would  seem 
to  be  added  by  a  different  hand.  “  It  bears  incontesta¬ 
ble  marks  of  a  great  capacity,  of  a  soaring  genius,  but 
young,  and  not  yet  thoroughly  practised.  Time  and 
use  may  ripen  these  qualities  in  the  author,  and  we  shall 
probably  have  reason  to  consider  this,  compared  with 
his  later  productions,  in  the  same  light  as  we  view  the 
juvenile  works  of  Milton,  or  the  first  manner  of 
Raphael.” 

The  great  speculator  did  not,  in  this  work,  amuse 
himself,  like  Bayle,  with  dialectical  exercises,  which 
only  inspire  a  disposition  towards  doubt,  by  showing  in 
detail  the  uncertainty  of  most  opinions.  He  aimed  at 
proving,  not  that  nothing  was  known,  but  that  nothing 
could  be  known  ; — from  the  structure  of  the  understand¬ 
ing  to  demonstrate,  that  we  are  doomed  for  ever  to  dwell 
in  absolute  and  universal  ignorance.  It  is  true  that  such 
a  system  of  universal  scepticism  never  can  be  more  than 


*  Sextus,  a  physician  of  the  empirical,  i.  e.  anti-theoretical  school,  who 
lived  at  Alexandria  in  the  reign  of  Antonius  Pius,  has  preserved  the  reason¬ 
ings  of  the  ancient  Sceptics  as  they  were  to  be  found  in  their  most  improved 
state,  in  the  writings  of  iEnesidemus,  a  Cretan,  who  was  a  Professor  in  the 
same  city,  soon  after  the  reduction  of  Egypt  into  a  Roman  province.  The 
greater  part  of  the  grounds  of  doubt  are  very  shallow  and  popular.  There 
are,  among  them,  intimations  of  the  argument  against  a  necessary  connexion 
of  causes  with  effects,  afterwards  better  presented  by  Glanville  in  his  Scep¬ 
sis  Scientifica.  See  Notes  and  Illustrations,  note  Q. 

f  History  of  the  Works  of  the  Learned,  November  and  December  1739,  p. 
353-404.  This  Review  is  attributed  by  some  (Chalmers,  Biographical 
Dictionary)  to  Warburton,  but  certainly  without  foundation. 

s 


138 


PROGRESS  OF 


an  intellectual  amusement,  an  exercise  of  subtilty ;  of 
which  the  only  use  is  to  check  dogmatism,  but  which 
perhaps  oftener  provokes  and  produces  that  much  more 
common  evil.  As  those  dictates  of  experience  which 
regulate  conduct  must  be  the  objects  of  belief,  all  objec¬ 
tions  which  attack  them  in  common  with  the  principles 
of  reasoning  must  be  utterly  ineffectual.  Whatever  at¬ 
tacks  every  principle  of  belief  can  destroy  none.  As 
long  as  the  foundations  of  knowledge  are  allowed  to  re¬ 
main  on  the  same  level  (be  it  called  of  certainty  or  un¬ 
certainty)  with  the  maxims  of  life,  the  whole  system  of 
human  conviction  must  continue  undisturbed.  When 
the  sceptic  hoasts  of  having  involved  the  results  of  ex¬ 
perience  and  the  elements  of  geometry  in  the  same  ruin 
with  the  doctrines  of  religion  and  the  principles  of  phi¬ 
losophy,  he  may  be  answered,  That  no  dogmatist  ever 
claimed  more  than  the  same  degree  of  certainty  for 
these  various  convictions  and  opinions ;  and  that  his 
scepticism,  therefore,  leaves  them  in  the  relative  condi¬ 
tion  in  which  it  found  them.  No  man  knew  better,  or 
owned  more  frankly  than  Mr  Hume,  that  to  this  answer 
there  is  no  serious  reply.  Universal  scepticism  involves 
a  contradiction  in  terms.  It  is  a  belief  that  there  can 
be  no  belief.  It  is  an  attempt  of  the  mind  to  act  without 
its  structure,  and  by  other  laws  than  those  to  which  its 
nature  has  subjected  its  operations.  To  reason  without 
assenting  to  the  principles  on  which  reasoning  is  found¬ 
ed,  is  not  unlike  an  effort  to  feel  without  nerves,  or  to 
move  without  muscles.  No  man  can  be  allowed  to  be 
an  opponent  in  reasoning ,  ivho  does  not  set  out  with 
admitting  all  the  principles ,  without  the  admission 
of  which  it  is  hnpossible  to  reason .*  It  is  indeed  a 


*  This  maxim,  which  contains  a  sufficient  answer  to  all  universal  scepti¬ 
cism,  or,  in  other  words,  to  all  scepticism  properly  so  called,  is  significantly 
conveyed  in  the  quaint  title  of  an  old  and  rare  book,  entitled,  Scivi,  site 
Sceptices  et  Scepticorum  a  Jure  Dispulationis  Exclusio,  by  Thomas  White, 
the  metaphysician  of  the  English  Catholics  in  modern  times. — “  Fortunate- 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


139 


puerile,  nay,  in  the  eye  of  wisdom,  a  childish  play,  to 
attempt  either  to  establish  or  to  confute  principles  by 
argument,  which  every  step  of  that  argument  must  pre¬ 
suppose.  The  only  difference  between  the  two  cases  is, 
that  he  who  tries  to  prove  them  can  do  so  only  by  first 
taking  them  for  granted  ;  and  that  he  who  attempts  to 
impugn  them  falls  at  the  very  first  step  into  a  contradic¬ 
tion,  from  which  he  never  can  rise. 

It  must,  however,  be  allowed,  that  universal  scepti¬ 
cism  has  practical  consequences  of  a  very  mischievous 
nature.  This  is  because  its  universality  is  not  steadily 
kept  in  view,  and  constantly  borne  in  mind.  If  it  were, 
the  above  short  and  plain  remark  would  be  an  effectual 
antidote  to  the  poison.  But  in  practice,  it  is  an  armoury 
from  which  weapons  are  taken  to  be  employed  against 
some  opinions,  while  it  is  hidden  from  notice  that  the 
same  weapon  would  equally  cut  down  every  other  con¬ 
viction.  It  is  thus  that  Mr  Hume’s  theory  of  causation 
is  used  as  an  answer  to  arguments  for  the  existence  of 
the  Deity,  without  warning  the  reader  that  it  would 
equally  lead  him  not  to  expect  that  the  sun  will  rise  to¬ 
morrow.  It  must  also  be  added,  that  those  who  are 
early  accustomed  to  dispute  first  principles  are  never 
likely  to  acquire,  in  a  sufficient  degree,  that  earnestness 
and  that  sincerity,  that  strong  love  of  truth,  and  that 
conscientious  solicitude  for  the  formation  of  just  opinions, 
which  are  not  the  least  virtues  of  men,  but  of  which  the 
cultivation  is  the  more  especial  duty  of  all  who  call  them¬ 
selves  philosophers.* 


ly,”  says  the  illustrious  sceptic  himself,  “  since  Reason  is  incapable  of  dis¬ 
pelling  these  clouds.  Nature  herself  suffices  for  that  purpose,  and  cures  me  of 
this  philosophical  delirium.”  (Treatise  of  Human  Nature,  I.  467),  almost  in 
the  sublime  and  immortal  words  of  Pascal:  La  Raison  cunfond  les  Dogma- 
tistes,  et  la  Nature  les  Sceptiques. 

*  It  would  be  an  act  of  injustice  to  those  readers  who  are  not  acquainted 
with  that  valuable  volume  entitled,  Essays  on  the  Formation  of  Opinions , 
not  to  refer  them  to  it  as  enforcing1  that  neglected  part  of  morality.  To  it 


140 


PROGRESS  OF 


It  is  notan  uninteresting  fact,  that  Mr  Hume,  having 
been  introduced  by  LordKames  (then  Mr  Henry  Home) 
to  Dr  Butler,  sent  a  copy  of  his  Treatise  to  that  philo¬ 
sopher  at  the  moment  of  his  preferment  to  the  bishopric 
of  Durham  ;  and  that  the  perusal  of  it  did  not  deter  the 
philosophic  prelate  from  “everywhere  recommending  Mr 
Hume’s  Moral  and  Political  Essays  published  two 
years  afterwards  ; — Essays  which  it  would  indeed  have 
been  unworthy  of  such  a  man  not  to  have  liberally  com¬ 
mended,  for  they,  and  those  which  followed  them,  what¬ 
ever  may  be  thought  of  the  contents  of  some  of  them, 
must  be  ever  regarded  as  the  best  models  in  any  lan¬ 
guage,  of  the  short  but  full,  of  the  clear  and  agreeable, 
though  deep  discussion  of  difficult  questions. 

Mr  Hume  considered  his  Enquiry  concerning  the 
Principles  of  Morals  as  the  best  of  his  writings.  It  is 
very  creditable  to  his  character,  that  he  should  have 
looked  back  with  most  complacency  on  a  Tract  the  least 
distinguished  by  originality,  and  the  least  tainted  with 
paradox,  among  his  philosophical  works  ;  but  deserving 
of  all  commendation  for  the  elegant  perspicuity  of  the 
style,  and  the  novelty  of  illustration  and  inference  with 
which  he  unfolded  to  general  readers  a  doctrine  too  sim¬ 
ple,  too  certain,  and  too  important,  to  remain  till  his 
time  undiscovered  among  philosophers.  His  diction 
has,  indeed,  neither  the  grace  of  Berkeley  nor  the 
strength  of  Hobbes  ;  but  it  is  without  the  verbosity  of  the 
former,  or  the  rugged  sternness  of  the  latter.  His  man¬ 
ner  is  more  lively,  more  easy,  more  ingratiating,  and,  if 
the  word  may  be  so  applied,  more  amusing,  than  that 
of  any  other  metaphysical  writer. f  He  knew  himself 

may  be  added  a  masterly  article  in  the  Westminster  Review,  occasioned  by 
the  Essays. 

*  Woodhouseeee’s  Life  of  Karnes ,  I.  86,  104. 

•J-  These  commendations  are  so  far  from  being1  at  variance  with  the  re¬ 
marks  of  the  late  most  ingenious  Dr  Thomas  Brown  j  on  Mr  Hume’s  “  mode 
of  writing,”  ( Enquiry  into  the  Relation  of  Cause  and  Effect,  3d  ed.  327)  that 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


141 


too  well  to  be,  as  Dr  Johnson  asserted,  an  imitator  of 
Voltaire  ;  who,  as  it  were,  embodied  in  his  own  per¬ 
son  all  the  wit  and  quickness  and  versatile  ingenuity 
of  a  people  which  surpasses  other  nations  in  these  bril¬ 
liant  qualities.  If  he  must  be  supposed  to  have  had 
an  eye  on  any  French  writer,  it  would  be  a  more 
plausible  guess,  that  he  sometimes  copied,  with  a  tem¬ 
perate  hand,  the  unexpected  thoughts  and  familiar 
expressions  of  Fontenelle.  Though  he  carefully  weeded 
his  writings  in  their  successive  editions,  yet  they  still 
contain  Scotticism  and  Gallicisms  enough  to  employ  the 
successors  of  such  critics  as  those  who  exulted  over  the 
Patavinity  of  the  Roman  Historian.  His  own  great  and 
modest  mind  would  have  been  satisfied  with  the  praise 
which  cannot  be  withheld  from  him,  that  there  is  no  wri¬ 
ter  in  our  language  who,  through  long  works,  is  more 
agreeable ;  and  it  is  no  derogation  from  him,  that,  as  a 
Scotsman,  he  did  not  reach  those  native  and  secret  beau¬ 
ties,  characteristical  of  a  language,  which  are  never  at¬ 
tained,  in  elaborate  composition,  but  by  a  very  small 
number  of  those  who  familiarly  converse  in  it  from  in¬ 
fancy. 

The  Enquiry  affords  perhaps  the  best  specimen  of  his 
style.  In  substance,  its  chief  merit  is  the  proof,  from 
an  abundant  enumeration  of  particulars,  that  all  the  qual¬ 
ities  and  actions  of  the  mind  which  are  generally  ap¬ 
proved  by  mankind  agree  in  the  circumstance  of  being 
useful  to  society.  In  the  proof  (scarcely  necessary), 
that  benevolent  affections  and  actions  have  that  tendency, 
he  asserts  the  real  existence  of  these  affections  with  un¬ 
usual  warmth  ;  and  he  well  abridges  some  of  the  most 
forcible  arguments  of  Butler,*  whom  it  is  remarkable 

they  may  rather  be  regarded  as  descriptive  of  those  excellencies  of  which 
the  excess  produced  the  faults  of  Mr  Hume  as  a  mere  searcher  and  teacher; 
justly,  though  perhaps  severely,  animadverted  on  by  Dr  Brown. 

•  Enquiry,  sect.  ii.  part  i.,  especially  the  concluding  paragraphs;  those 
which  precede  being  more  his  own. 


142 


PROGRESS  OF 


that  he  does  not  mention.  To  show  the  importance  of 
his  principle,  he  very  unnecessarily  distinguishes  the 
comprehensive  duty  of  justice,  from  other  parts  of  mo¬ 
rality,  as  an  artificial  virtue,  for  which  our  respect  is 
solely  derived  from  notions  of  utility.  If  all  things  were 
in  such  plenty  that  there  could  never  be  a  want,  or  if 
men  were  so  benevolent  as  to  provide  for  the  wants  of 
others  as  much  as  for  their  own,  there  would,  says  he,  in 
neither  case  be  any  justice,  because  there  would  be  no 
need  for  it.  But  it  is  evident  that  the  same  reasoning 
is  applicable  to  every  good  affection  and  right  action. 
None  of  them  could  exist  if  there  were  no  scope  for 
their  exercise.  If  there  were  no  suffering,  there  could 
be  no  pity  and  no  relief.  If  there  were  no  offences,  there 
could  be  no  placability.  If  there  were  no  crimes,  there 
could  be  no  mercy.  Temperance,  prudence,  patience, 
magnanimity,  are  qualities  of  which  the  value  depends 
on  the  evils  by  which  they  are  respectively  exercised.* 
On  purity  of  manners,  it  must  be  owned  that  Mr 
Hume,  though  he  controverts  no  rule,  yet  treats  vice 
with  too  much  indulgence.  It  was  his  general  disposi¬ 
tion  to  distrust  virtues  which  are  liable  to  exaggeration, 
and  may  be  easily  counterfeited.  The  ascetic  pursuit  of 
purity,  and  hypocritical  pretences  to  patriotism,  had  too 


*  “  Si  nobis,  cum  ex  hac  vita  migraverimus,  in  beatorum  insulis,  ut  fab- 
ulx  ferunt,  immortale  jevum  degere  liceret,  quid  opus  esset  eloquentia,  cum 
judicia  nulla  fierent?  aut  ipsis  etiam  virtutibus?  Nec  enim  fortitudine  indi- 
geremus,  nullo  proposito  aut  labore  aut  periculo;  necjustitia,  cum  esset  nihil 
quod  appetereiur  alieni;  nec  temperantia,  quae  regeret  eas  quae  nullse  essent 
libidines:  ne  prudentia  quidem  egeremus,  nullo  proposito  delectu  bonorum 
et  malorum.  Una  igitur  essemus  beati  cognitione  rerum  et  scientia.” 
{Frag.  Cic.  Hortens,  apud  Augustin,  de  Trinitate.)  Cicero  is  more  exten¬ 
sive,  and  therefore  more  consistent,  than  Hume;  but  bis  enumeration  errs 
both  by  excess  and  defect.  He  supposes  knowledge  to  render  beings  happy 
in  this  imaginary  state,  without  stopping  to  inquire  how.  He  omits  a  vir¬ 
tue  which  might  well  exist  in  it,  though  we  cannot  conceive  its  formation 
in  such  a  state — the  delight  in  each  other’s  well-being;  and  he  omits  a  con¬ 
ceivable  though  unknown  vice,  that  of  unmixed  ill-will,  which  would  ren¬ 
der  such  a  state  a  hell  to  the  wretch  who  harboured  the  malevolence. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


143 


much  withdrawn  the  respect  of  his  equally  calm  and  sin¬ 
cere  nature  from  these  excellent  virtues;  more  especially 
as  severity  in  both  these  respects  was  often  at  apparent 
variance  with  affection,  which  can  neither  be  long  as¬ 
sumed,  nor  ever  overvalued.  Yet  it  was  singular  that 
he  who,  in  his  Essay  on  Polygamy  and  Divorce,*  had  so 
well  shown  the  connexion  of  domestic  ties  with  the  out¬ 
ward  order  of  society,  should  not  have  perceived  their 
deeper  and  closer  relation  to  all  the  social  feelings  of  hu¬ 
man  nature.  It  cannot  be  enough  regretted,  that,  in  an 
Enquiry  written  with  a  very  moral  purpose,  his  habit  of 
making  truth  attractive,  by  throwing  over  her  the  dress 
of  paradox,  should  have  given  him  for  a  moment  the  ap¬ 
pearance  of  weighing  the  mere  amusements  of  society 
and  conversation  against  domestic  fidelity,  which  is  the 
preserver  of  domestic  affection,  the  source  of  parental 
fondness  and  filial  regard,  and,  indirectly,  of  all  the  kind¬ 
ness  which  exists  between  human  beings.  That  families 
are  schools  where  the  infant  heart  learns  to  love,  and 
that  pure  manners  are  the  cement  which  alone  holds 
these  schools  together,  are  truths  so  certain,  that  it  is 
wonderful  he  should  not  have  betrayed  a  stronger  sense 
of  their  importance.  No  one  could  so  well  have  prov¬ 
ed  that  all  the  virtues  of  that  class,  in  their  various  or¬ 
ders  and  degrees,  minister  to  the  benevolent  affections  ; 
and  that  every  act  which  separates  the  senses  from  the 
affections  tends,  in  some  degree,  to  deprive  kindness  of 
its  natural  auxiliary,  and  to  lessen  its  prevalence  in  the 
world.  It  did  not  require  his  sagacity  to  discover  that 
the  gentlest  and  tenderest  feelings  flourish  only  under 
the  stern  guardianship  of  these  severe  virtues.  Per¬ 
haps  his  philosophy  was  loosened,  though  his  life  was  un¬ 
tainted,  by  that  universal  and  undistinguishing  profliga¬ 
cy  which  prevailed  on  the  Continent,  from  the  regency 


*  Essays  and  Treatises,  Vol.  I. 


144 


PROGRESS  OF 


of  the  Duke  of  Orleans  to  the  French  revolution;  the 
most  dissolute  period  of  European  history,  at  least  since 
the  Roman  emperors..*  At  Rome,  indeed,  the  connex¬ 
ion  of  licentiousness  with  cruelty,  which,  though  scarce¬ 
ly  traceable  in  individuals,  is  generally  very  observable 
in  large  masses,  bore  a  fearful  testimony  to  the  value  of 
austere  purity.  The  alliance  of  these  remote  vices  seem¬ 
ed  to  be  broken  in  the  time  of  Mr  Hume.  Pleasure,  in 
a  more  improved  state  of  society,  seemed  to  return  to 
her  more  natural  union  with  kindness  and  tenderness,  as 
well  as  with  refinement  and  politeness.  Had  he  lived 
fourteen  years  longer,  however,  he  would  have  seen,  that 
the  virtues  which  guarded  the  natural  seminaries  of  the 
affections  are  their  only  true  and  lasting  friends.  ./The 
demand  of  all  well-informed  men  for  the  improvement  of 
civil  institutions — the  demand  of  classes  of  men,  growing 
in  intelligence,  to  be  delivered  from  a  degrading  inferi¬ 
ority,  and  admitted  to  a  share  of  political  power  propor¬ 
tioned  to  their  new  importance,  being  feebly  yet  violently 
resisted  by  those  ruling  Castes  who  neither  knew  how  to 
yield  nor  how  to  withstand — being  also  attended  by  very 
erroneous  principles  of  legislation,  having  suddenly  brok¬ 
en  down  the  barriers  (imperfect  as  these  were)  of  law 
and  government,  led  to  popular  excesses,  desolating  wars, 
and  a  military  dictatorship,  which  for  a  long  time  threat¬ 
ened  to  defeat  the  reformation,  and  to  disappoint  the 
hopes  of  mankind.  This  tremendous  convulsion  threw  a 
fearful  light  on  the  ferocity  which  lies  hid  under  the  arts 
and  pleasures  of  corrupted  nations;  as  earthquakes  and 
volcanoes  disclose  the  layers  which  compose  the  deeper 
parts  of  our  planet,  beneath  a  fertile  and  flowery  surface. 
A  part  of  this  dreadful  result  may  be  ascribed,  not  im¬ 
probably,  to  that  relaxation  of  domestic  ties,  unhappily 
natural  to  the  populace  of  vast  capitals,  and  at  that  time 


*  See  Notes  and  Illustrations,  note  R. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


145 


countenanced  and  aggravated  by  the  example  of  their 
superiors.  Another  part  doubtless  arose  from  the  bar¬ 
barizing  power  of  absolute  government,  or,  in  other 
words,  of  injustice  in  high  places.  Avery  large  por¬ 
tion  attests,  as  strongly  as  Roman  history,  though  in  a 
somewhat  different  manner,  the  humanizing  efficacy  of 
the  family  virtues,  by  the  consequences  of  the  want  of 
them  in  the  higher  classes,  whose  profuse  and  ostenta¬ 
tious  sensuality  inspired  the  laborious  and  suffering  por¬ 
tion  of  mankind  with  contempt,  disgust,  envy,  and 
hatred. 

The  Enquiry  is  disfigured  by  another  speck  of  more 
frivolous  paradox.  It  consists,  in  the  attempt  to  give 
the  name  of  virtue  to  qualities  of  the  understanding;  and 
it  would  not  have  deserved  the  single  remark  about  to 
be  made  on  it,  had  it  been  the  paradox  of  an  inferior 
man.  He  has  altogether  omitted  the  circumstance  on 
which  depends  the  difference  of  our  sentiments  regard¬ 
ing  moral  and  intellectual  qualities.  We  admire  intel¬ 
lectual  excellence,  but  we  bestow  no  moral  approbation 
on  it.  Such  approbation  has  no  tendency  directly  to 
increase  it,  because  it  is  not  voluntary.  We  cultivate 
our  natural  disposition  to  esteem  and  love  benevolence 
and  justice,  because  these  moral  sentiments,  and  the  ex¬ 
pression  of  them,  directly  and  materially  dispose  others, 
as  well  as  ourselves,  to  cultivate  these  two  virtues.  We 
cultivate  a  natural  anger  against  oppression,  which  guards 
ourselves  against  the  practice  of  that  vice,  and  because 
the  manifestation  of  it  deters  others  from  its  exercise. 
The  first  rude  resentment  of  a  child  is  against  every  in¬ 
strument  of  hurt.  We  confine  it  to  intentional  hurt, 
when  we  are  taught  by  experience  that  it  prevents  only 
that  species  of  hurt ;  and  at  last  it  is  still  further  limited 
to  wrong  done  to  ourselves  or  others,  and  in  that  case 
becomes  a  purely  moral  sentiment.  We  morally  ap¬ 
prove  industry,  desire  of  knowledge,  love  of  truth,  and 
T 


146 


PROGRESS  OF 


all  the  habits  by  which  the  understanding  is  strength¬ 
ened  and  rectified,  because  their  formation  is  subject  to 
the  will.*  But  we  do  not  feel  a  moral  anger  against 
folly  or  ignorance,  because  they  are  involuntary.  No 
one  but  the  religious  persecutor,  a  mischievous  and  over¬ 
grown  child,  wreaks  his  vengeance  on  involuntary,  inevi¬ 
table,  compulsory  acts  or  states  of  the  understanding, 
which  are  no  more  affected  by  blame  than  the  stone 
which  the  foolish  child  beats  for  hurting  him.  Reasona¬ 
ble  men  apply  to  every  thing  which  they  wish  to  move, 
the  agent  which  is  capable  of  moving  it ; — force  to  out¬ 
ward  substances,  arguments  to  the  understanding,  and 
blame,  together  with  all  other  motives,  whether  moral  or 
personal,  to  the  will  alone.  It  is  as  absurd  to  entertain  an 
abhorrence  of  intellectual  inferiority  or  error,  however 
extensive  or  mischievous,  as  it  would  be  to  cherish  a 
warm  indignation  against  earthquakes  or  hurricanes.  It 
is  singular  that  a  philosopher  who  needed  the  most  lib¬ 
eral  toleration  should,  by  representing  states  of  the  under¬ 
standing  as  moral  or  immoral,  have  offered  the  most  phi¬ 
losophical  apology  for  persecution. 

That  general  utility  constitutes  a  uniform  ground  of 
moral  distinctions,  is  a  part  of  Mr  Hume's  ethical  theory 
which  never  can  be  impugned,  until  some  example  can 
be  produced  of  a  virtue  generally  pernicious,  or  of  a 
vice  generally  beneficial.  The  religious  philosopher 
who,  with  Butler,  holds  that  benevolence  must  be  the 
actuating  principle  of  the  divine  mind,  will,  with  Ber¬ 
keley,  maintain  that  pure  benevolence  can  prescribe  no 
rules  of  human  conduct  but  such  as  are  beneficial  to  men; 
thus  bestowing  on  the  theory  of  Moral  Distinctions  the 
certainty  of  demonstration  in  the  eyes  of  all  who  believe 
in  God. 


*  “  In  hac  quxstione  primas  tenet  Voluntas,  qua ,  ut  ait  Augustinus,  pec- 
cat  ur,  et  recte  vivitur ( Hyperaspistes ,  Diatribe  adversus  Servant  Jrbilrium 
Martini  LuTHERi,per  Desideric.u  Erasmcm  Rojterdamensem.) 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


147 


The  other  question  of  moral  philosophy  which  relates 
to  the  theory  of  Moral  Approbation ,  has  been  by  no 
means  so  distinctly  and  satisfactorily  handled  by  Mr 
Hume.  His  general  doctrine  is,  that  an  interest  in  the 
wellbeing  of  others,  implanted  by  nature,  which  he  calls 
Sympathy  in  his  Treatise  of  Human  Nature ,  and  much 
less  happily  Benevolence  in  his  subsequent  Enquiry ,* 
prompts  us  to  be  pleased  with  all  generally  beneficial 
actions.  In  this  respect  his  doctrine  nearly  resembles  that 
of  Hutcheson.  He  does  not  trace  his  principle  through 
the  variety  of  forms  which  our  moral  sentiments  assume. 
There  are  very  important  parts  of  them,  of  which  it  af¬ 
fords  no  solution.  For  example,  though  he  truly  rep¬ 
resents  our  approbation,  in  others,  of  qualities  useful  to 
the  individual,  asaproof  of  benevolence,  he  makes  no  at¬ 
tempt  to  explain  our  moral  approbation  of  such  virtues  as 
temperance  and  fortitude  in  ourselves.  He  entirely 
overlooks  that  consciousness  of  the  rightful  supremacy 
of  the  moral  faculty  over  every  other  principle  of  hu¬ 
man  action,  without  an  explanation  of  which,  ethical 
theory  is  wanting  in  one  of  its  vital  organs. 

Notwithstanding  these  considerable  defects,  his  proof 
from  induction  of  the  beneficial  tendency  of  virtue,  his 
conclusive  arguments  for  human  disinterestedness,  and 
his  decisive  observations  on  the  respective  provinces  of 
reason  and  sentiment  in  morals,  concur  in  ranking  the 
Enquiry  with  the  ethical  treatises  of  the  highest  merit 
in  our  language, — with  Shaftesbury’s  Enquiry  concern¬ 
ing  Virtue ,  Butler’s  Sermons ,  and  Smith’s  Theory  of 
Moral  Sentiments. 

«  / 

Adam  Smith.! 

The  great  name  of  Adam  Smith  rests  upon  the  En¬ 
quiry  into  the  Nature  and  Causes  of  the  Wealth  of 

*  Essays  and  'Treatises,  Vol.  II. 
f  Born  in  1723;  died  in  1790. 


148 


PROGRESS  OF 


Nations;  perhaps  the  only  book  which  produced  an 
immediate,  general,  and  irrevocable  change  in  some  of 
the  most  important  parts  of  the  legislation  of  all  civilized 
states.  The  works  of  Grotius,  of  Locke,  and  of  Montes¬ 
quieu,  which  bear  a  resemblance  to  it  in  character,  and 
had  no  inconsiderable  analogy  to  it  in  the  extent  of 
their  popular  influence,  were  productive  only  of  a  gene¬ 
ral  amendment,  not  so  conspicuous  in  particular  instances, 
as  discoverable,  after  a  time,  in  the  improved  condition 
of  human  affairs.*  The  work  of  Smith,  as  it  touched 
those  matters  which  may  be  numbered,  and  measured, 
and  weighed,  bore  more  visible  and  palpable  fruit.  In 
a  few  years  it  began  to  alter  laws  and  treaties,  and  has 
made  its  way,  throughout  the  convulsions  of  revolution 
and  conquest,  to  a  due  ascendant  over  the  minds  of  men, 
with  far  less  than  the  average  obstructions  of  prejudice 
and  clamour,  which  choak  the  channels  through  which 
truth  flows  into  practice.  The  most  eminent  of  those 
who  have  since  cultivated  and  improved  the  science  will 
be  the  foremost  to  address  their  immortal  master, 

. Tenebris  tantis  tam  clarum  extollere  lumen 

Qui  primus  potuisti,  ijo-ustrans  commoda  tit®, 

Te  sequor!  (Lucret.  lib.  iii.) 

In  a  science  more  difficult,  because  both  ascending  to 
more  simple  general  principles,  and  running  down 
through  more  minute  applications,  though  the  success  of 
Smith  has  been  less  complete,  his  genius  is  not  less  con¬ 
spicuous.  Perhaps  there  is  no  ethical  works  since 
Cicero’s  Offices ,  of  which  an  abridgement  enables  the 
reader  so  inadequately  to  estimate  the  merit,  as  the 
Theory  of  Moral  Sentiments,  This  is  not  chiefly  owing 
to  the  beauty  of  diction,  as  in  the  case  of  Cicero  ;  but  to 
the  variety  of  explanations  of  life  ^nd  manners  which 
embellish  the  book  often  more  than  they  illuminate  the 

*  Notes  and  Illustrations,  note  S. 

V  ' 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


149 


theory.  Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  it  must  be  owned  that, 
for  purely  philosophical  purposes,  few  books  more  need 
abridgement :  for  the  most  careful  reader  frequently 
loses  sight  of  principles  buried  under  illustrations.  The 
naturally  copious  and  flowing  style  of  the  author  is  gen¬ 
erally  redundant,  and  the  repetition  of  certain  formula¬ 
ries  of  the  system  is,  in  the  later  editions,  so  frequent  as 
to  be  wearisome,  and  sometimes  ludicrous.  Perhaps 
Smith  and  Hobbes  may  be  considered  as  forming  the  two 
extremes  of  good  style  in  our  philosophy  ;  the  first  of 
graceful  fulness  falling  into  flaccidity ;  while  the  mas¬ 
terly  concision  of  the  second  is  oftener  tainted  by  dictato¬ 
rial  dryness.  Hume  and  Berkeley,  though  they  are 
nearer  the  extreme  of  abundance,* 
least  distant  from  perfection. 

That  mankind  are  so  constituted  as  to  sympathize 
with  each  other’s  feelings,  and  to  feel  pleasure  in  the  ac¬ 
cordance  of  these  feelings,  are  the  only  facts  required  by 
Dr  Smith,  and  they  certainly  must  be  granted  to  him. 
To  adopt  the  feelings  of  another,  is  to  approve  them. 
When  the  sentiments  of  another  are  such  as  would  be 
excited  in  us  by  the  same  objects,  we  approve  them  as 
morally  proper.  To  obtain  this  accord,  it  becomes 
necessary  for  him  who  enjoy^or  suffers,  to  lower  his  ex¬ 
pression  of  feeling  to  the  point  to  which  the  by-stander 
can  raise  his  fellow-feelings  ;  on  which  are  founded  all 
the  high  virtues  of  self-denial  and  self-command  ;  and  it 
is  equally  necessary  for  the  by-stander  to  raise  his  sym¬ 
pathy  as  near  as  he  can  to  the  level  of  the  original  feel¬ 
ing.  In  all  unsocial  passions,  such  as  anger,  we  have  a 
divided  sympathy  between  him  who  feels  them  and  those 
who  are  the  objects  of  them.  Hence  the  propriety  of 
extremely  moderating  them.  Pure  malice  is  always  to 


are  probably  the 


*  This  remark  is  chiefly  applicable  to  Hume’s  Essays.  His  Treatise  of 
Human  Nature  is  more  Hobbian  in  its  general  tenor,  though  it  has  Cice¬ 
ronian  passages. 


150 


PROGRESS  OF 


be  concealed  or  disguised,  because  all  sympathy  is 
arrayed  against  it.  In  the  private  passions,  where  there 
is  only  a  simple  sympathy — that  with  the  original  pas¬ 
sion — the  expression  has  more  liberty.  The  benevolent 
affections,  where  there  is  a  double  sympathy — with 
those  who  feel  them,  and  those  who  are  their  objects — 
are  the  most  agreeable,  and  may  be  indulged  with  the 
least  apprehension  of  finding  no  echo  in  other  breasts. 
Sympathy  with  the  gratitude  of  those  who  are  benefited 
by  good  actions,  prompts  us  to  consider  them  as  deserv¬ 
ing  of  reward,  and  forms  the  sense  of  merit  ;  as  fellow- 
feeling  with  the  resentment  of  those  who  are  injured  by 
crimes  leads  us  to  look  on  them  as  worthy  of  punishment, 
and  constitutes  the  sense  of  demerit.  These  sentiments 
require  not  only  beneficial  actions,  but  benevolent  mo¬ 
tives  for  them  ;  being  compounded,  in  the  case  of  merit, 
of  a  direct  sympathy  with  the  good  disposition  of  the 
benefactor,  and  an  indirect  sympathy  with  the  persons 
benefited ;  in  the  opposite  case,  with  the  precisely 
opposite  sympathies.  He  who  does  an  act  of  wrong 
to  another  to  gratify  his  own  passions,  must  not  expect 
that  the  spectators,  who  have  none  of  his  undue  partial¬ 
ity  to  his  own  interest,  will  enter  into  his  feelings.  In 
such  a  case,  he  knows  that  they  will  pity  the  person 
wronged,  and  be  full  of  indignation  against  him.  When 
he  is  cooled,  he  adopts  the  sentiments  of  others  on  his 
own  crime,  feels  shame  at  the  impropriety  of  his  former 
passion,  pity  for  those  who  have  suffered  by  him,  and  a 
dread  of  punishment  from  general  and  just  resentment. 
Such  are  the  constituent  parts  of  remorse. 

Our  moral  sentiments  respecting  ourselves  arise  from 
those  which  others  feel  concerning  us.  We  feel  a  self-ap¬ 
probation  whenever  we  believe  that  the  general  feeling 
of  mankind  coincides  with  that  state  of  mind  in  which  we 
ourselves  were  at  a  given  time.  u  We  suppose  ourselves 
the  spectators  of  our  own  behaviour,  and  endeavour  to 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


151 


imagine  what  effect  it  would  in  this  light  produce  in  us.” 
We  must  view  our  own  conduct  with  the  eyes  of  others 
before  we  can  judge  it.  The  sense  of  duty  arises  from 
putting  ourselves  in  the  place  of  others,  and  adopting 
their  sentiments  respecting  our  own  conduct.  In  utter 
solitude  there  could  have  been  no  self-approbation.  The 
rules  of  morality  are  a  summary  of  those  sentiments  ;  and 
often  beneficially  stand  in  their  stead  when  the  self-delu¬ 
sions  of  passion  would  otherwise  hide  from  us  the  non¬ 
conformity  of  our  state  of  mind  with  that  which,  in  the 
circumstances,  can  be  entered  into  and  approved  by  im¬ 
partial  by-standers.  It  is  hence  that  we  learn  to  raise  our 
mind  above  local  or  temporary  clamour,  and  to  fix  our 
eyes  on  the  surest  indications  of  the  general  and  lasting 
sentiments  of  human  nature.  u  When  we  approve  of  any 
character  or  action,  our  sentiments  are  derived  from  four 
sources :  first ,  we  sympathise  with  the  motives  of  the 
agent ;  secondly ,  we  enter  into  the  gratitude  of  those 
who  have  been  benefited  by  his  actions ;  thirdly ,  we  ob¬ 
serve  that  his  conduct  has  been  agreeable  to  the  general 
rules  by  which  those  two  sympathies  generally  act;  and, 
last  of  all,  when  we  consider  such  actions  as  forming  part 
of  a  system  of  behaviour  which  tends  to  promote  the  hap¬ 
piness  either  of  the  individual  or  of  society,  they  appear 
to  derive  a  beauty  from  this  utility,  not  unlike  that  which 
we  ascribe  to  any  well  contrived  machine.”* 

REMARKS. 

That  Smith  is  the  first  who  has  drawn  the  attention  of 
philosophers  to  one  of  the  most  curious  and  important 
parts  of  human  nature — who  has  looked  closely  and  stea¬ 
dily  into  the  workings  of  Sympathy ,  its  sudden  action 
and  reaction,  its  instantaneous  conflicts  and  its  emotions, 
its  minute  play  and  varied  illusions — is  sufficient  to  place 
him  high  among  the  cultivators  of  mental  philosophy. 


*  Theory  of  Moral  Sentiments,  II.  304  Edinb.  1801. 


152 


PROGRESS  OF 


He  is  very  original  in  applications  and  explanations ; 
though,  for  his  principle,  he  is  somewhat  indebted  to 
Butler,  more  to  Hutcheson,  and  most  of  all  to  Hume. 
These  writers,  except  Hume,  in  his  original  work,  had 
derived  sympathy,  or  great  part  of  it,  from  benevolence.* 
Smith,  with  deeper  insight,  inverted  the  order.  The 
great  part  performed  hy  various  sympathies  in  moral  ap¬ 
probation  was  first  unfolded  by  him  ;  and  besides  its  in¬ 
trinsic  importance,  it  strengthened  the  proofs  against 
those  theories  which  ascribe  that  great  function  to  Rea¬ 
son.  Another  great  merit  of  the  theory  of  sympathy  is, 
that  it  brings  into  the  strongest  light  that  most  important 
characteristic  of  the  moral  sentiments  which  consists  in 
their  being  the  only  principles  leading  to  action,  and 
dependent  on  emotion  or  sensibility,  with  respect  to  the 
objects  of  which,  it  is  not  only  possible  but  natural  for 
all  mankind  to  agree. f 

The  main  defects  of  this  theory  seem  to  be  the  follow¬ 
ing. 

1.  Though  it  is  not  to  be  condemned  for  declining  in¬ 
quiry  into  the  origin  of  our  fellow-feeling,  which,  being 
one  of  the  most  certain  of  all  facts,  might  well  be  assum¬ 
ed  as  ultimate  in  speculations  of  this  nature,  it  is  evident 
that  the  circumstances  to  which  some  speculators  ascribe 
the  formation  of  sympathy  at  least  contribute  to  strength¬ 
en  or  impair,  to  contract  or  expand  it.  It  will  appear, 
more  conveniently,  in  the  next  article,  that  the  theory 
of  sympathy  has  suffered  from  the  omission  of  these  cir¬ 
cumstances.  For  the  present,  it  is  enough  to  observe 
how  much  our  compassion  for  various  sorts  of  animals, 


*  There  is  some  confusion  regarding’  this  point  in  Butler’s  first  sermon  on 
Compassion. 

f  The  feelings  of  beauty,  grandeur,  and  whatever  else  is  comprehended 
under  the  name  of  Taste,  form  no  exception,  for  they  do  not  lead  to  action, 
but  terminate  in  delightful  contemplation;  which  constitutes  the  essential 
distinction  between  them  and  the  moral  sentiments;  to  which,  in  some  points 
of  view,  they  may  doubtless  be  likened. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


153 


and  our  fellow-feeling  with  various  races  of  men,  are  pro¬ 
portioned  to  the  resemblance  which  they  bear  to  our¬ 
selves,  to  the  frequency  of  our  intercourse  with  them, 
and  to  other  causes  which,  in  the  opinion  of  some,  afford 
evidence  that  sympathy  itself  is  dependent  on  a  more 
general  law. 

2.  Had  Smith  extended  his  view  beyond  the  mere 
play  of  sympathy  itself,  and  taken  into  account  all  its  pre¬ 
liminaries,  and  accompaniments,  and  consequences,  it 
seems  improbable  that  he  should  have  fallen  into  the 
great  error  of  representing  the  sympathies  in  their  pri¬ 
mitive  state,  without  undergoing  any  transformation,  as 
continuing  exclusively  to  constitute  the  moral  sentiments. 
He  is  not  content  with  teaching  that  they  are  the  roots 
out  of  which  these  sentiments  grow,  the  stocks  on  which 
they  are  grafted,  the  elements  of  which  they  are  com¬ 
pounded  ;  doctrines  to  which  nothing  could  be  objected 
hut  their  unlimited  extent.  He  tacitly  assumes,  that  if 
a  sympathy  in  the  beginning  caused  or  formed  a  moral 
approbation,  so  it  must  ever  continue  to  do.  He  pro¬ 
ceeds  like  a  geologist  who  should  tell  us  that  the  layers  of 
this  planet  had  always  been  in  the  same  state,  shutting  his 
eyes  to  transition  states  and  secondary  formations ;  or  like  a 
chemist  who  should  inform  us  that  no  compound  substance 
can  possess  new  qualities  entirely  different  from  those 
which  belong  to  its  materials.  His  acquiescence  in  this 
old  and  still  general  error  is  the  more  remarkable,  be¬ 
cause  Mr  Hume’s  beautiful  Dissertation  on  the  Passions* 
had  just  before  opened  a  striking  view  of  some  of  the  com¬ 
positions  and  decompositions  which  render  the  mind  of  a 
formed  man  as  different  from  its  original  state,  as  the  or¬ 
ganization  of  a  complete  animal  is  from  the  condition  of 
the  first  dim  speck  of  vitality.  It  is  from  this  oversight 
(ill  supplied  by  moral  rules,  a  loose  stone  in  his  building) 

*  Essays  and  Treatises ,  vol.  II. 


u 


154 


PROGRESS  OF 


that  he  has  exposed  himself  to  objections  founded  on  ex¬ 
perience,  to  which  it  is  impossible  to  attempt  any  an¬ 
swer.  For  it  is  certain  that  in  many,  nay  in  most  cases 
of  moral  approbation,  the  adult  man  approves  the  action 
or  disposition  merely  as  right ,  and  with  a  distinct  con¬ 
sciousness  that  no  process  of  sympathy  intervenes  be¬ 
tween  the  approval  and  its  object.  It  is  certain  that  an 
unbiassed  person  would  call  it  moral  approbation ,  only 
as  far  as  it  excluded  the  interposition  of  any  reflection 
between  the  conscience  and  the  mental  state  approved. 
Upon  the  supposition  of  an  unchanged  state  of  our  active 
principles,  it  would  follow  that  sympathy  never  had  any 
share  in  the  greater  part  of  them.  Had  he  admitted  the 
sympathies  to  be  only  elements  entering  into  the  forma¬ 
tion  of  Conscience ,  their  disappearance,  or  their  appear¬ 
ance  only  as  auxiliaries,  after  the  mind  is  mature,  would 
have  been  no  more  an  objection  to  his  system,  than  the 
conversion  of  a  substance  from  a  transitional  to  a  perma¬ 
nent  state  is  a  perplexity  to  the  geologist.  It  would  per¬ 
fectly  resemble  the  destruction  of  qualities,  which  is  the 
ordinary  effect  of  chemical  composition. 

3.  The  same  error  has  involved  him  in  another  diffi¬ 
culty,  perhaps  still  more  fatal.  The  sympathies  have 
nothing  more  of  an  imperative  character  than  any  other 
emotions.  They  attract  or  repel  like  other  feelings,  ac¬ 
cording  to  their  intensity.  If,  then,  the  sympathies  con¬ 
tinue  in  mature  minds  to  constitute  the  whole  of  con¬ 
science,  it  becomes  utterly  impossible  to  explain  the 
character  of  command  and  supremacy,  which  is  attested 
by  the  unanimous  voice  of  mankind  to  belong  to  that 
faculty,  and  to  form  its  essential  distinction.  Had  he 
adopted  the  other  representation,  it  would  be  possible 
to  conceive,  perhaps  easy  to  explain,  that  conscience 
should  possess  a  quality  which  belonged  to  none  of  its 
elements. 

4.  It  is  to  this  representation  that  Smith’s  theory 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


155 


owes  that  unhappy  appearance  of  rendering  the  rule  of 
our  conduct  dependent  on  the  notions  and  passions  of 
those  who  surround  us,  of  which  the  utmost  efforts  of 
the  most  refined  ingenuity  have  not  been  able  to  divest 
it.  This  objection  or  topic  is  often  ignorantly  urged; 
the  answers  are  frequently  solid  ;  but  to  most  men  they 
must  always  appear  to  bean  ingenious  and  intricate  con¬ 
trivance  of  cycles  and  epicycles,  which  perplex  the 
mind  too  much  to  satisfy  it,  and  seem  devised  to  evade 
difficulties  which  cannot  be  solved.  All  theories  which 
treat  conscience  as  built  up  by  circumstances  inevitably 
acting  on  all  human  minds,  are,  indeed,  liable  to  some¬ 
what  of  the  same  misconception  ;  unless  they  place  in  the 
strongest  light  (what  Smith’s  theory  excludes)  the  total 
destruction  of  the  scaffolding  which  was  necessary  only 
to  the  erection  of  the  building,  after  the  mind  is  adult 
and  mature,  and  warn  the  hastiest  reader,  that  it  then 
rests  on  its  own  foundation  alone. 

5.  The  constant  reference  of  our  own  dispositions  and 
actions  to  the  point  of  view  from  which  they  are  esti¬ 
mated  by  others,  seems  to  be  rather  an  excellent  expe¬ 
dient  for  preserving  our  impartiality,  than  a  fundamental 
principal  of  Ethics.  But  impartiality,  which  is  no  more 
than  a  removal  of  some  hinderance  to  right  judgment, 
supplies  no  materials  for  its  exercise,  and  no  rule,  or 
even  principle,  for  its  guidance.  It  nearly  coincides 
with  the  Christian  precept  of  doing  unto  others  as  we 
would  they  should  do  unto  us ;  an  admirable  practical 
maxim,  but,  as  Leibnitz  has  said  truly,  intended  only  as 
a  correction  of  self-partiality. 

6.  Lastly,  this  ingenious  system  renders  all  morality 
relative , — by  referring  it  to  the  pleasure  of  an  agree¬ 
ment  of  our  feelings  with  those  of  others,  by  confining 
itself  entirely  to  the  question  of  moral  approbation,  and 
by  providing  no  place  for  the  consideration  of  that  qual¬ 
ity  which  distinguishes  all  good  from  all  bad  actions 


156 


PROGRESS  OF 


a  defect  which  will  appear  in  the  sequel  to  be  more  im¬ 
mediately  fatal  to  a  theorist  of  the  sentimental ,  than  to 
one  of  the  intellectual  school.  Smith  shrinks  from  con¬ 
sidering  utility  in  that  light  as  soon  as  it  presents  itself, 
or  very  strangely  ascribes  its  power  over  our  moral  feel¬ 
ings  to  admiration  of  the  mere  adaptation  of  means  to  ends, 
— which  might  surely  be  as  well  felt  for  the  production 
of  wide-spread  misery,  by  a  consistent  system  of  wicked 
conduct, — instead  of  ascribing  it  to  benevolence,  with 
Hutcheson  and  Hume,  or  to  an  extension  of  that  very 
sympathy  which  is  his  own  first  principle. 

Richard  Price. * 

About  the  same  time  with  the  celebrated  work  of 
Smith,  but  with  a  popular  reception  very  different,  Dr 
Richard  Price,  an  excellent  and  eminent  non-conformist 
minister,  published  J1  Review  of  the  principal  Questions 
in  Morals;^ — an  attempt  to  revive  the  intellectual  theory 
of  moral  obligation,  which  seemed  to  have  fallen  under  the 
attacks  of  Butler,  Hutcheson,  and  Hume,  even  before 
Smith.  It  attracted  little  observation  at  first ;  but  be¬ 
ing  afterwards  countenanced  by  the  Scottish  School, 
may  seem  to  deserve  some  notice,  at  a  moment  when  the 
kindred  speculations  of  the  German  metaphysicians  have 
effected  an  establishment  in  France,  and  are  no  longer 
unknown  in  England. 

The  understanding  itself  is,  according  to  Price,  an  in¬ 
dependent  source  'of  simple  ideas.  “The  various  kinds 
of  agreement  and  disagreement  between  our  ideas,  spoken 
of  by  Locke,  are  so  many  new  simple  ideas.”  “  This  is 
true  of  our  ideas  of  proportion,  of  our  ideas  of  identity 
and  diversity,  existence,  connection,  cause  and  effect, 
power,  possibility,  and  of  our  ideas  of  right  and  wrong.” 
“The  first  relates  to  quantity,  the  last  to  actions,  the 

*  Born  in  1723;  died  in  1791. 

f  The  third  edition  was  published  at  London  in  1787. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


157 


rest  to  all  things/’  “  Like  all  other  simple  ideas,  they 
are  undefinable.” 

It  is  needless  to  pursue  this  theory  farther,  till  an  an¬ 
swer  shall  be  given  to  the  observation  made  before,  that 
as  no  perception  or  judgment,  or  other  unmixed  act  of 
understanding,  merely  as  such,  and  without  the  agency 
of  some  intermediate  emotion ,  can  affect  the  will,  the 
account  given  by  Dr  Price  of  perceptions  or  judgments 
respecting  moral  subjects,  does  not  advance  one  step  to¬ 
wards  the  explanation  of  the  authority  of  conscience  over 
the  will,  which  is  the  matter  to  be  explained.  Indeed, 
this  respectable  writer  felt  the  difficulty  so  much  as  to 
allow,  “  that  in  contemplating  the  acts  of  moral  agents, 
we  have  both  a  perception  of  the  understanding  and  a 
feeling  of  the  heart.”  He  even  admits,  that  it  would 
have  been  highly  pernicious  to  us  if  our  reason  had  been 
left  without  such  support.  But  he  has  not  shown  how, 
on  such  a  supposition,  we  could  have  acted  on  a  mere 
opinion  ;  nor  has  he  given  any  proof  that  what  he  calls 
support  is  not,  in  truth,  the  whole  of  what  directly  pro¬ 
duces  the  conformity  of  voluntary  acts  to  morality.* 

David  Hartley.! 

The  work  of  Dr  Hartley,  entitled  Observations  on 
Man,%  is  distinguished  by  an  uncommon  union  of  origi¬ 
nality  with  modesty,  in  unfolding  a  simple  and  fruitful 


*  The  following  sentences  will  illustrate  the  text,  and  are  in  truth  ap¬ 
plicable  to  all  moral  theories  on  merely  intellectual  principles: — “Reason 
alone,  did  we  possess  it  in  a  higher  degree,  would  answer  all  the  ends  of  the 
passions.  Thus  there  would  be  no  need  of  parental  affection,  were  all 
parents  sufficiently  acquainted  with  the  reasons  for  taking  upon  them  the 
guidance  and  support  of  those  whom  nature  has  placed  under  their  care, 
and  were  they  virtuous  enough  to  be  always  determined  by  those  reasons .” 
(Price’s  Review,  121.)  A  very  slight  consideration  will  show,  that  without 
the  last  words  the  preceding  part  would  be  utterly  false,  and  with  them  it 
is  utterly  insignificant. 

|  Born  in  1705;  died  in  1757. 

$  London,  1749. 


158 


PROGRESS  OF 


principle  of  human  nature.  It  is  disfigured  by  the  ab- 
surd  affectation  of  mathematical  forms  then  prevalent ; 
and  it  is  encumbered  and  deformed  by  a  mass  of  physio¬ 
logical  speculations,  groundless,  or  at  best  uncertain, 
wholly  foreign  from  its  proper  purpose,  which  repel  the 
inquirer  into  mental  philosophy  from  its  perusal,  and 
lessen  the  respect  of  the  physiologist  for  the  author’s 
judgment.  It  is  ail  unfortunate  example  of  the  disposi¬ 
tion  predominant  among  undistinguishing  theorists  to 
class  together  all  the  appearances  which  are  observed  at 
the  same  time,  and  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of 
each  other.  At  that  period,  chemical  phenomena  were 
referred  to  mechanical  principles  ;  vegetable  and  animal 
life  were  subjected  to  mechanical  or  chemical  laws  ;  and 
while  some  physiologists*  ascribed  the  vital  functions 
to  the  understanding,  the  greater  part  of  metaphysicians 
were  disposed,  with  a  grosser  confusion,  to  derive  the 
intellectual  operations  from  bodily  causes.  The  error 
in  the  latter  case,  though  less  immediately  perceptible, 
is  deeper  and  more  fundamental  than  in  any  other  ;  since 
it  overlooks  the  primordial  and  perpetual  distinction  be¬ 
tween  the  being  which  thinks  and  the  thing  which  is 
thought  of ; — not  to  be  lost  sight  of,  by  the  mind’s  eye, 
even  for  a  twinkling,  without  involving  all  nature  in 
darkness  and  confusion.  Hartley  and  Condillac,!  who, 
much  about  the  same  time,  but  seemingly  without  any 
knowledge  of  each  other’s  speculations,!  began  in  a  very 


*  G.  E.  Stahl,  born  in  1660;  died  in  1734;  a  German  physician  and 
chemist  of  deserved  eminence. 

f  Born  in  1715;  died  in  1780 . 

t  Trait  e  sur  VOrigine  des  Connoissances  Humaines,  1746;  Traits  des 
Systemes,  1749;  Trade  des  Sensations,  1754.  Foreign  books  were  then  lit¬ 
tle  and  slowly  known  in  England.  Hartley’s  reading,  except  on  theology, 
seems  confined  to  the  physical  and  mathematical  sciences;  and  his  whole 
manner  of  thinking  and  writing  is  so  different  from  that  of  Condillac,  that 
there  is  not  the  least  reason  to  suppose  the  work  of  the  one  to  have  been 
known  to  the  other. 

The  work  of  Hartley,  as  we  learn  from  the  sketch  of  his  life  by  his  son, 
prefixed  to  the  edition  of  1791,  was  begun  in  1730,  and  finished  in  1746. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


159 


similar  mode  to  simplify,  but  also  to  mutilate  the  system 
of  Locke,  stopped  short  of  what  is  called  Materialism, 
which  consummates  the  confusion,  but  touched  its 
threshold.  Thither,  it  must  be  owned,  their  philoso¬ 
phy  pointed,  and  thither  their  followers  proceeded. 
Hartley  and  Bonnet,*  still  more  than  Condillac,  suffer¬ 
ed  themselves,  like  most  of  their  contemporaries,  to 
overlook  the  important  truth,  that  all  the  changes 
in  the  organs  which  can  be  likened  to  other  material 
phenomena,  are  nothing  more  than  antecedents  and 
prerequisites  of  perception ,  bearing  not  the  faintest 
likeness  to  it ;  as  much  outward  in  relation  to  the  think¬ 
ing  principle,  as  if  they  occurred  in  any  other  part  of 
matter ;  and  of  which  the  entire  comprehension,  if  it 
were  attained,  would  not  bring  us  a  step  nearer  to  the 
nature  of  a  thought.  They  who  would  have  been  the 
first  to  exclaim  against  the  mistake  of  a  sound  for  a  co¬ 
lour,  fell  into  the  more  unspeakable  error  of  confound¬ 
ing  the  perception  of  objects,  as  outward,  with  the  con¬ 
sciousness  of  our  own  mental  operations.  Locke’s 
doctrine,  that  Reflection  was  a  separate  source  of 
ideas,  left  room  for  this  greatest  of  all  dis  tinctions, — 
though  with  much  unhappiness  of  expression,  and  with 
no  little  variance  from  the  course  of  his  own  specula¬ 
tions.  Hartley,  Condillac,  and  Bonnet,  in  hewing  away 
this  seeming  deformity  from  the  system  of  their  master, 
unwittingly  struck  off  the  part  of  the  building  which, 
however  unsightly,  gave  it  the  power  of  yielding  some 
shelter  and  guard  to  truths,  of  which  the  exclusion  ren¬ 
dered  it  utterly  untenable.  They  became  consistent 
Nominalists  ;  a  controversy  on  which  Locke  expresses 
himself  with  confusion  and  contradiction  ;  but  on  this 
subject  they  added  nothing  to  what  had  been  taught  by 
Hobbes  and  Berkeley.  Both  Hartley  and  Condillacf 

*  Born  in  1720;  died  in  1793. 

t  The  following  note  of  Condillac  will  show  how  much  he  differed  from 


160 


PROGRESS  OF 


have  the  merit  of  having  been  unseduced  by  the  tempta¬ 
tions  either  of  scepticism  of  of  useless  idealism  ;  which., 
even  if  Berkeley  and  Hume  could  have  been  unknown 
to  them,  must  have  been  within  sight.  Both  agree 
in  referring  all  the  intellectual  operations  to  the  asso¬ 
ciation  of  ideas ,  and  in  representing  that  association  as 
reducible  to  the  single  law,  that  ideas  which  enter  the 
mind  at  the  same  time,  acquire  a  tendency  to  call  upon 
each  other,  which  is  in  direct  proportion  to  the  fre¬ 
quency  of  their  having  entered  together.  In  this  im¬ 
portant  part  of  their  doctrine  they  seem,  whether  uncon¬ 
sciously  or  otherwise,  to  have  only  repeated,  and  very 
much  expanded,  the  opinion  of  Hobbes.*  In  its  sim¬ 
plicity  it  is  more  agreeable  than  the  system  of  Mr  Hume, 
who  admitted  five  independent  laws  of  association ;  and 
it  is  in  conprehension  far  superior  to  the  views  of  the 
same  subject  by  Mr  Locke,  whose  ill-chosen  name  still 
retains  its  place  in  our  nomenclature,  but  who  only  ap¬ 
peals  to  the  principle  as  explaining  some  fancies  and 
whimsies  of  the  human  mind.  The  capital  fault  of  Hart¬ 
ley  is  that  of  a  rash  generalization,  which  may  prove 
imperfect,  and  which  is  at  least  premature.  All  at¬ 
tempts  to  explain  instinct  by  this  principle  have  hither¬ 
to  been  unavailing.  Many  of  the  most  important  pro¬ 
cesses  of  reasoning  have  not  hitherto  been  accounted  for 
by  it.f  It  would  appear  by  a  close  examination,  that 


Hartley  in  his  mode  of  considering-  the  Newtonian  hypothesis  of  vibrations, 
and  how  far  he  was  in  that  respect  superior  to  him.  “  Je  suppose  ici  et 
ailleurs  que  les  perceptions  de  l’ame  ont  pour  cause  physique  l’ebranlement 
des  fibres  du  cerveau;  non  que  je  regarde  cette  hypothese  comme  d6montr£e, 
rnais  parcequ'  elle  est  la  plus  commode  pour  expliquer  ma  penseeV  ((Euvres 
de  Condillac,  I.  60.  Paris,  1798.) 

*  Human  Nature,  chap.  iv.  v.  vi.  For  more  ancient  statements,  see 
Notes  and  Illustrations,  note  T. 

f  “  Ce  que  les  logiciens  ont  dit  des  raisonnements  dans  bien  des  volumes, 
me  paroit  enticement  superflu,  et  de  nul  usage”  (Condiilac,  I.  115);  an 
assertion  of  which  the  gross  absurdity  will  be  apparent  to  the  readers  of  Dr 
Whately’s  Treatise  on  Logic ,  one  of  the  most  important  works  of  the  pre¬ 
sent  age. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


161 


even  this  theory,  simple  as  it  appears,  presupposes 
many  facts  relating  to  the  mind,  of  which  its  authors 
do  not  seem  to  have  suspected  the  existence.  How 
many  ultimate  facts  of  that  nature,  for  example,  are  con¬ 
tained  and  involved  in  Aristotle’s  celebrated  compari¬ 
son  of  the  mind  in  its  first  state  to  a  sheet  of  unwritten 
paper  !*  The  texture  of  the  paper,  even  its  colour, 
the  sort  of  instrument  fit  to  act  on  it,  its  capacity  to  re¬ 
ceive  and  to  retain  impressions,  all  its  differences,  from 
steel  on  the  one  hand  to  water  on  the  other,  certainly 
presupposes  some  facts,  and  may  imply  many,  without 
a  distinct  statement  of  which,  the  nature  of  writing  could 
not  be  explained  to  a  person  wholly  ignorant  of  it. 
How  many  more,  as  well  as  greater  laws,  may  be  neces¬ 
sary  to  enable  mind  to  perceive  outward  objects!  If 
the  power  of  perception  may  be  thus  dependent,  why 
may  not  what  is  called  the  association  of  ideas,  the  at¬ 
traction  between  thoughts,  the  power  of  one  to  suggest 
another,  be  affected  by  mental  laws  hitherto  unexplored, 
perhaps  unobserved  ? 

But  to  return  from  digression  into  the  intellectual  part 
of  man  :  It  becomes  proper  to  say,  that  the  difference 
between  Hartley  and  Condillac,  and  the  immeasurable 
superiority  of  the  former,  are  chiefly  to  be  found  in  the 
application  which  Hartley  first  made  of  the  law  of  asso¬ 
ciation  to  that  other  unnamed  portion  of  our  nature  with 
which  morality  more  immediately  deals ;  that  which  feels 
pain  and  pleasure,  is  influenced  by  appetites  and  loath¬ 
ings,  by  desires  and  aversions,  by  affections  and  repug¬ 
nances.  Condillac’s  Treatise  on  Sensation ,  published 
five  years  after  the  work  of  Hartley,  reproduces  the  doc¬ 
trine  of  Hobbes  with  its  root,  namely,  that  love  and  hope 
are  but  transformed  sensations,!  by  which  he  means  per- 


*  See  Notes  and  Illustrations,  note  U. 

f  Condillac,  III.  21;  more  especially  Traite  des  Sensations,  part  ii. 
chap.  vi.  “  Its  love  for  outward  objects  is  only  an  effect  of  love  for  itself.  ” 

V 


162 


PROGRESS  OF 


ceptions  of  the  senses  ;  and  its  wide-spread  branches, 
consisting  in  desires  and  which  are  only  modi¬ 

fications  of  self-love.  “  The  words  goodness  and  beau¬ 
ty  ”  says  he,  almost  in  the  very  words  of  Hobbes,  u  ex¬ 
press  those  qualities  of  things  by  which  they  contribute 
to  our  pleasures.”*  In  the  whole  of  his  philosophical 
works,  we  find  no  trace  of  any  desire  produced  by  asso¬ 
ciation,  of  any  disinterested  principle,  or  indeed  of  any 
distinction  between  the  percipient  and  what,  perhaps, 
we  may  now  venture  to  call  the  emotive  or  the  pathe- 
matic  part  of  human  nature,  until  some  more  convenient 
and  agreeable  name  shall  be  hit  on  by  some  luckier  or 
more  skilful  adventurer,  in  such  new  terms  as  seem  to  be 
absolutely  necessary. 

To  the  ingenious,  humble,  and  anxiously  conscien¬ 
tious  character  of  Hartley,  we  owe  the  knowledge  that, 
about  the  year  1730,  he  was  informed  that  the  Rev  Mr 
Gay  of  Sidney  College,  Cambridge,  then  living  in  the 
west  of  England,  asserted  the  possibility  of  deducing  all 
our  intellectual  pleasures  and  pains  from  association  ;  that 
this  led  him  (Hartley)  to  consider  the  power  of  associa¬ 
tion  ;  and  that  about  that  time  Mr  Gay  published  his  sen¬ 
timents  on  this  matter  in  a  dissertation  prefixed  to  Bishop 
Law’s  Translation  of  King’s  Origin  of  Evil. f  No  wri¬ 
ter  deserves  more  the  praise  of  abundant  fairness  than 
Hartley  in  this  avowal.  The  dissertation  of  which  he 
speaks  is  mentioned  by  no  philosopher  but  himself.  It 
suggested  nothing  apparently  to  any  other  reader.  The 
general  texture  of  it  is  that  of  homespun  selfishness.  The 
writer  had  the  merit  to  see  and  to  own  that  Hutcheson 
had  established  as  a  fact  the  reality  of  moral  sentiments 

•  Traite  des  Sensations,  part  iv.  chap.  iii. 

t  Hartley’s  Preface  to  the  Observations  on  Man.  The  word  intellectual 
is  too  narrow.  Even  mental  would  be  of  very  doubtful  propriety.  The 
theory  in  its  full  extent  requires  a  word  such  as  inorganic,  (if  no  better  can 
be  discovered)  extending  to  all  gratification,  not  distinctly  referred  to  some 
specific  organ,  or  at  least  to  some  assignable  part  of  the  bodily  frame. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


163 


and  disinterested  affections.  He  blames,  perhaps  justly, 
that  most  ingenious  man,*  for  assuming  that  these  senti¬ 
ments  and  affections  are  implanted,  and  partake  of  the 
nature  of  instincts.  The  object  of  his  dissertation  is  to 
reconcile  the  mental  appearances  described  by  Hutche¬ 
son  with  the  first  principle  of  the  selfish  system,  that 
u  the  true  principle  of  all  our  actions  is  our  own  happi¬ 
ness/*7  Moral  feelings  and  social  affections  are,  accord¬ 
ing  to  him,  “  resolvable  into  reason,  pointing  out  our 
private  happiness ;  and  whenever  this  end  is  not  perceived, 
they  are  to  be  accounted  for  from  the  association  of  ideas.77 
Even  in  the  single  passage  in  which  he  shows  a  glimpse 
of  the  truth,  he  besrins  with  confusion,  advances  with  hes- 
itation,  and  after  holding  in  his  grasp  for  an  instant  the 
principle  which  sheds  so  strong  a  light  around  it,  sud¬ 
denly  drops  it  from  his  hand.  Instead  of  receiving  the 
statements  of  Hutcheson  (his  silence  relating  to  Butler  is 
unaccountable)  as  enlargements  of  the  science  of  man,  he 
deals  with  them  merely  as  difficulties  to  be  reconciled 
with  the  received  system  of  universal  selfishness.  In  the 
conclusion  of  his  fourth  section,  he  well  exemplifies  the 
power  of  association  in  forming  the  love  of  money,  of 
fame,  of  power,  &c.;  but  he  still  treats  these  effects  of 
association  as  aberrations  and  infirmities,  the  fruits  of  our 
forgetfulness  and  short-sightedness,  and  not  at  all  as  the 
great  process  employed  to  sow  and  rear  the  most  impor¬ 
tant  principles  of  a  social  and  moral  nature. 

This  precious  mine  may  therefore  be  truly  said  to  have 


*  It  has  not  been  mentioned  in  its  proper  place,  that  Hutcheson  appears 
nowhere  to  greater  advantage  than  in  Letters  on  the  Fable  of  the  Bees , 
published  when  he  was  very  young,  at  Dublin,  in  a  publication  called  Hi - 
bemicus.  “  Private  vices  public  benefits,”  says  he,  •“  may  signify  any  one 
of  these  five  distinct  propositions:  1.  They  are  in  themselves  public  bene¬ 
fits;  or,  2.  They  naturally  produce  public  happiness;  or,  3.  They  may  be 
made  to  produce  it;  or,  4.  They  may  naturally  flow  from  it;  or,  5.  At  least 
they  may  probably  flow  from  it  in'  our  infirm  nature-”  (See  a  small  volume 
containing  Thoughts  on  Laughter,  and  Observations  on  the  Fable  of  the  Bees, 
Glasgow,  1758,  in  which  these  letters  are  republished.) 


164 


PROGRESS  OF 


been  opened  by  Hartley;  for  he  who  did  such  super¬ 
abundant  justice  to  the  hints  of  Gay,  would  assuredly  not 
have  withheld  the  like  tribute  from  Hutcheson,  had  he 
observed  the  happy  expression  of  <e secondary  passions,” 
which  ought  to  have  led  that  philosopher  himself  farther 
than  he  ventured  to  advance.  The  extraordinary  value 
of  this  part  of  Hartley’s  system  has  been  hidden  by  va¬ 
rious  causes,  which  have  also  enabled  writers  who  bor¬ 
row  from  it  to  decry  it.  The  influence  of  his  medical 
habits  renders  many  of  his  examples  displeasing,  and 
sometimes  disgusting.  He  has  none  of  that  knowledge 
of  the  world,  of  that  familiarity  of  literature,  of  that  de¬ 
licate  perception  of  the  beauties  of  nature  and  art,  which 
not  only  supply  the  most  agreeable  illustrations  of  mental 
philosophy,  but  afford  the  most  obvious  and  striking  in¬ 
stances  of  its  happy  application  to  subjects  generally  in¬ 
teresting.  His  particular  applications  of  the  general  law 
are  often  mistaken,  and  seldom  more  than  brief  notes  and 
hasty  suggestions;  the  germs  of  theories  which,  while 
some  might  adopt  them  without  detection,  others  might 
discover  without  being  aware  that  they  were  anticipated. 
To  which  it  may  be  added,  that  in  spite  of  the  imposing 
forms  of  geometry,  the  work  is  not  really  distinguished 
by  good  method,  or  even  uniform  adherence  to  that  which 
had  been  chosen.  His  style  is  entitled  to  no  praise  but 
that  of  clearness,  and  a  simplicity  of  diction,  through 
which  is  visible  a  singular  simplicity  of  mind.  No  book 
perhaps  exists,  which,  with  so  few  of  the  common  allure¬ 
ments,  comes  at  last  so  much  to  please  by  the  picture 
it  presents  of  the  writer’s  character, — a  character  which 
kept  him  pure  from  the  pursuit,  often  from  the  conscious¬ 
ness  of  novelty,  and  rendered  him  a  discoverer  in  spite 
of  his  own  modesty.  In  those  singular  passages  in  which, 
amidst  the  profound  internal  tranquillity  of  all  the  Euro¬ 
pean  nations,  he  foretells  approaching  convulsions,  to  be 
followed  by  the  overthrow  of  states  and  churches,  his 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


165 


qniet  and  gentle  spirit,  elsewhere  almost  ready  to  incul¬ 
cate  passive  obedience  for  the  sake  of  peace,  is  supported 
under  its  awful  forebodings  by  the  hope  of  that  general 
progress  in  virtue  and  happiness  which  he  saw  through 
the  preparatory  confusion.  A  meek  piety,  inclining  to¬ 
wards  mysticism,  and  sometimes  indulging  in  visions 
which  borrow  a  lustre  from  his  fervid  benevolence,  was 
beautifully,  and  perhaps  singularly,  blended  in  him  with 
zeal  for  the  most  unbounded  freedom  of  inquiry,  flowing 
both  from  his  own  conscientious  belief  and  his  unmingled 
love  of  truth.  Whoever  can  so  far  subdue  his  repug¬ 
nance  to  petty  or  secondary  faults  as  to  bestow  a  careful 
perusal  on  the  work,  must  be  unfortunate  if  he  does  not 
see,  feel,  and  own,  that  the  writer  was  a  great  philoso¬ 
pher  and  a  good  man. 

To  those  who  thus  study  the  work,  it  will  be  apparent 
that  Hartley,  like  other  philosophers,  either  overlooked, 
or  failed  explicitly  to  announce,  that  distinction  between 
perception  and  emotion,  without  which  no  system  of 
mental  philosophy  is  complete.  Hence  arose  the  par¬ 
tial  and  incomplete  view  of  truth  conveyed  by  the  use  of 
the  phrase  “  association  of  ideas.”  If  the  word  associa- 
tion ,  which  rather  indicates  the  connection  between  se¬ 
parate  things,  than  the  perfect  combination  and  fusion 
which  occur  in  many  operations  of  the  mind,  must,  not¬ 
withstanding  its  inadequacy,  still  be  retained,  the  phrase 
ought  at  least  to  be  “  association  of  thoughts  with  emo¬ 
tions,  as  well  as  with  each  other.”  With  that  enlarge¬ 
ment  an  objection  to  the  Hartleian  doctrine  would  have 
been  avoided,  and  its  originality,  as  well  as  superiority 
over  that  of  Condillac,  would  have  appeared  indisputa¬ 
ble.  The  examples  of  avarice  and  other  factitious  pas¬ 
sions  are  very  well  chosen;  first,  because  few  will  be 
found  to  suppose  that  they  are  original  principles  of  hu¬ 
man  nature;*  secondly,  because  the  process  by  which 


*  A  very  ingenious  man.  Lord  Kames,  whose  works  had  a  great  effect  in 
rousing  the  mind  of  his  contemporaries  and  countrymen,  has  indeed  fancied 


166 


PROGRESS  OF 


they  are  generated,  being  subsequent  to  the  age  of  at¬ 
tention  and  recollection,  maybe  brought  home  to  the  un¬ 
derstanding  of  all  men;  and,  thirdly,  because  they  afford 
the  most  striking  instance  of  secondary  passions,  which 
not  only  become  independent  of  the  primary  principles 
from  which  they  are  derived,  but  hostile  to  them,  and  so 
superior  in  strength  as  to  be  capable  of  overpowering 
their  parents.  As  soon  as  the  mind  becomes  familiar  with 
the  frequent  case  of  the  man  who  first  pursued  money  to 
purchase  pleasure,  but  at  last,  when  he  becomes  a  miser, 
loves  his  hoard  better  than  all  that  it  could  purchase, 
and  sacrifices  all  pleasures  for  its  increase,  we  are  pre¬ 
pared  to  admit  that,  by  a  like  process,  the  affections, 
when  they  are  fixed  on  the  happiness  of  others  as  their 
ultimate  object,  without  any  reflection  on  self,  may  not 
only  be  perfectly  detached  from  self-regard  or  private 
desires,  but  may  subdue  these,  and  every  other  antago¬ 
nist  passion  which  can  stand  in  their  way.  As  the  miser 
loves  money  for  its  own  sake,  so  may  the  benevolent  man 
delight  in  the  wellbeing  of  his  fellows.  His  good-will 
becomes  as  disinterested  as  if  it  had  been  implanted  and 
underived.  The  like  process  applied  to  what  is  called 
self-love,  or  the  desire  of  permanent  wellbeing,  clearly 
explains  the  mode  in  which  that  principle  is  gradually 
formed  from  the  separate  appetites,  without  whose  pre¬ 
vious  existence  no  notion  of  w'ellbeing  could  be  obtained. 
In  like  manner,  sympathy,  perhaps  itself  the  result  of  a 
transfer  of  our  own  personal  feelings  by  association  to 
other  sentient  beings,  and  of  a  subsequent  transfer  of 
their  feelings  to  our  own  minds,  engenders  the  various 
social  affections,  which  at  last  generate  in  most  minds 
some  regard  to  the  wellbeing  of  our  country,  of  mankind, 
of  all  creatures  capable  of  pleasure.  Rational  self-love 

that  there  is  “  a  hoarding  instinct”  in  man  and  other  animals.  15ut  such  con¬ 
clusions  are  not  so  much  objects  of  confutation,  as  ludicrous  proofs  of  the 
absurdity  of  the  premises  which  lead  to  them. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


167 


controls  and  guides  those  for  keener  self-regarding  pas¬ 
sions  of  which  it  is  the  child,  in  the  same  manner  as  gen¬ 
eral  benevolence  balances  and  governs  the  variety  of 
much  warmer  social  affections  from  which  it  springs.  It 
is  an  ancient  and  obstinate  error  of  philosophers  to  rep¬ 
resent  these  two  calm  principles  as  being  the  source  of 
the  impelling  passions  and  affections.,  instead  of  being 
among  the  last  results  of  them.  Each  of  them  exercises 
a  sort  of  authority  in  its  sphere,  but  the  dominion  of  nei¬ 
ther  is  co-existent  with  the  whole  nature  of  man.  Though 
they  have  the  power  to  quicken  and  check,  they  are 
both  too  feeble  to  impel ;  and  if  the  primary  principles 
were  extinguished,  they  would  both  perish  from  want  of 
nourishment.  If  indeed  all  appetites  and  desires  were 
destroyed,  no  subject  would  exist  on  which  either  of 
these  general  principles  could  act. 

The  affections,  desires,  and  emotions,  having  for  their 
ultimate  object  the  dispositions  and  actions  of  voluntary 
agents,  which  alone,  from  the  nature  of  their  object,  are 
co -extensive  with  the  whole  of  our  active  nature,  are, 
according  to  the  same  philosophy,  necessarily  formed  in 
every  human  mind  by  the  transfer  of  feeling  which  is  ef¬ 
fected  by  the  principle  of  association.  Gratitude,  pity, 
resentment,  and  shame,  seem  to  be  the  simplest,  the  most 
active,  and  the  most  uniform  elements  in  their  composi¬ 
tion. 

It  is  easy  to  perceive  how  the  complacency  inspired  by 
a  benefit  may  be  transferred  to  a  benefactor,  thence  to 
all  beneficent  beings  and  acts.  The  well-chosen  instance 
of  the  nurse  familiarly  exemplifies  the  manner  in  which 
the  child  transfers  his  complacency  from  the  gratifica¬ 
tion  of  his  senses  to  the  cause  of  it,  and  thus  learns  an 
affection  for  her  who  is  the  source  of  his  enjoyment. 
With  this  simple  process  concur,  in  the  case  of  a  tender 
nurse,  and  far  more  of  a  mother,  a  thousand  acts  of  relief 
and  endearment,  of  which  the  complacency  is  fixed  on 


168 


PROGRESS  OF 


the  person  from  whom  they  flow,  and  in  some  degree  ex¬ 
tended  by  association  to  all  who  resembled  that  person. 
So  much  of  the  pleasure  of  early  life  depends  on  others, 
that  the  like  process  is  almost  constantly  repeated. 
Hence  the  origin  of  benevolence  maybe  understood,  and 
the  disposition  to  approve  all  benevolent,  and  disapprove 
all  malevolent  acts.  Hence  also  the  same  approbation 
and  disapprobation  are  extended  to  all  acts  which  we 
clearly  perceive  to  promote  or  obstruct  the  happiness  of 
men.  When  the  complacency  is  extended  to  action,  be¬ 
nevolence  may  be  said  to  be  transformed  into  a  part  of 
conscience.  The  rise  of  sympathy  may  probably  be  ex¬ 
plained  by  the  process  of  association,  which  transfers  the 
feelings  of  others  to  ourselves,  and  ascribes  our  own  feel¬ 
ings  to  others ; — at  first,  and  in  some  degree,  always  in 
proportion  as  the  resemblance  of  ourselves  to  others  is 
complete.  The  likeness  in  the  outward  signs  of  emotion 
is  one  of  the  widest  channels  in  this  commerce  of  hearts. 
Pity  thereby  becomes  one  of  the  grand  sources  of  be¬ 
nevolence,  and  perhaps  contributes  more  largely  than 
gratitude.  It  is  indeed  one  of  the  first  motives  to  the 
conferring  of  those  benefits  which  inspire  grateful  affec¬ 
tion.  Sympathy  with  the  sufferer,  therefore,  is  also 
transformed  into  a  real  sentiment,  directly  approving  be¬ 
nevolent  actions  and  dispositions,  and  more  remotely  all 
actions  that  promote  happiness.  The  anger  of  the  suf¬ 
ferer,  first  against  all  causes  of  pain,  afterwards  against 
all  intentional  agents  who  produce  it,  and  finally  against 
all  those  in  whom  the  infliction  of  pain  proceeds  from  a 
mischievous  disposition,  when  it  is  communicated  to 
others  by  sympathy,  and  is  so  far  purified  by  gradual 
separation  from  selfish  and  individual  interest  as  to  be 
equally  felt  against  all  wrong-doers,  whether  the  wrong 
be  done  against  ourselves,  our  friends,  or  our  enemies, 
is  the  root  out  of  which  springs  that  which  is  commonly 
and  well  called  a  Sense  of  Justice ■ — the  most  indispensa- 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


169 


ble,  perhaps  of  all  the  component  parts  of  the  moral  facul¬ 
ties.  It  is  the  main  guard  against  wrong.  It  relates  to 
that  portion  of  morality  where  many  of  the  outward  acts 
are  capable  of  being  reduced  under  certain  rules,  of 
which  the  violations,  wherever  the  rule  is  sufficiently 
precise,  and  the  mischief  sufficiently  great,  may  be  guard¬ 
ed  against  by  the  terror  of  punishment.  In  the  observa¬ 
tion  of  the  rules  of  justice  consists  duty ;  breaches  of  them 
we  denominate  crimes .  An  abhorrence  of  crimes,  espe¬ 
cially  of  those  which  indicate  the  absence  of  benevolence, 
as  well  as  of  regard  to  justice,  is  peculiarly  strong  ;  be¬ 
cause  well-framed  penal  laws,  being  the  lasting  declara¬ 
tion  of  the  moral  indignation  of  many  generations  of  man¬ 
kind,  exceedingly  strengthen  the  same  feeling  in  every 
individual,  as  long  as  they  remain  in  unison  with  the 
sentiments  of  the  age  and  country  for  which  they  are 
destined,  and,  indeed,  wherever  the  laws  do  not  so  much 
deviate  from  the  habitual  feelings  as  to  produce  a  strug¬ 
gle  between  law  and  sentiment,  in  which  it  is  hard  to 
say  on  which  side  success  is  most  deplorable.  A  man 
who  performs  his  duties  may  be  esteemed,  but  is  not  ad¬ 
mired  ;  because  it  requires  no  more  than  ordinary  virtue 
to  act  well  where  it  is  shameful  and  dangerous  to  do 
otherwise.  The  righteousness  of  those  who  act  solely 
from  such  inferior  motives,  is  little  better  than  that  (i  of 
the  Scribes  and  Pharisees.”  Those  only  are  just  in  the 
eye  of  the  moralist  who  act  justly  from  a  constant  dispo¬ 
sition  to  render  to  every  man  his  own*  Acts  of  kindness, 
of  generosity,  of  pity,  of  placability,  of  humanity,  when 
they  are  long  continued,  can  hardly  fail  mainly  to  flow 
from  the  pure  fountain  of  an  excellent  nature.  They 

*  “  Justitia  est  constans  et  perpetua  voluntas  suum  cuique  tribuendi;”  an 
excellent  definition  in  the  mouth  of  the  Stoical  moralists,  from  whom  it  is 
borrowed,  but  altogether  misplaced  by  the  Roman  Jurists  in  a  body  of  laws 
which  deal  only  with  outward  acts  in  their  relation  to  the  order  and  interest 
of  society. 

w 


170 


PROGRESS  OF 


are  not  reducible  to  rules ;  and  the  attempt  to  enforce 
them  by  punishment  would  destroy  them.  They  are 
virtues  of  which  the  essence  consists  in  a  good  disposi¬ 
tion  of  mind.  As  we  gradually  transfer  our  desire  from 
praise  to  praiseworthiness,  this  principle  also  is  adopted 
into  consciousness.  On  the  other  hand,  when  we  are 
led  by  association  to  feel  a  painful  contempt  for  those 
feelings  and  actions  of  our  past  self  which  we  despise  in 
others,  there  is  developed  in  our  hearts  another  element 
of  that  moral  sense.  It  is  a  remarkable  instance  of  the 
power  of  the  law  of  association,  that  the  contempt  or  ab¬ 
horrence  which  we  feel  for  the  bad  actions  of  others  may 
be  transferred  by  it,  in  any  degre  of  strength,  to  our  own 
past  actions  of  the  like  kind.  And  as  the  hatred  of  bad 
actions  is  transferred  to  the  agent,  the  same  transfer  may 
occur  in  our  own  case  in  a  manner  perfectly  similar  to 
that  of  which  we  are  conscious  in  our  feelings  towards 
our  'fellow  creatures.  There  are  many  causes  which 
render  it  generally  feebler ;  but  it  is  perfectly  evident 
that  it  requires  no  more  than  a  sufficient  strength  of  mo¬ 
ral  feeling  to  make  it  equal;  and  that  the  most  apparently 
hyperbolical  language  used  by  penitents,  in  describing 
their  remorse ,  may  be  justified  by  the  principle  of  asso¬ 
ciation. 

At  this  step  in  our  progress,  it  is  proper  to  observe, 
that  a  most  important  consideration  has  escaped  Hartley, 
as  well  as  every  other  philosopher.*  The  language  of 
all  mankind  implies  that  the  moral  faculty,  whatever  it 
may  be,  and  from  what  origin  soever  it  may  spring,  is 
intelligibly  and  properly  spoken  of  as  One.  It  is  as 
common  in  mind  as  in  matter  for  a  compound  to  have 
properties  not  to  be  found  in  any  of  its  constituent  parts. 
The  truth  of  this  proposition  is  as  certain  in  the  human 
feelings  as  in  any  material  combination.  It  is  therefore 


•  See  supra,  section  on  Kutler. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


171 


easily  understood,  that  originally  separate  feelings  may 
be  so  perfectly  blended  by  a  process  performed  in  every 
mind,  that  they  can  no  longer  be  disjoined  from  each 
other,  but  must  always  co-operate,  and  thus  reach  the 
only  union  which  we  can  conceive.  The  sentiment  of 
Moral  Approbation ,  formed  by  association  out  of  antece¬ 
dent  affections,  may  become  so  perfectly  independent 
of  them,  that  we  are  no  longer  conscious  of  the  means  by 
which  it  was  formed,  and  never  can  in  practice  repeat, 
though  we  may  in  theory  perceive,  the  process  by  which 
it  was  generated.  It  is  in  that  mature  and  sound  state 
of  our  nature  that  our  emotions  at  the  view  of  Right  and 
Wrong  are  ascribed  to  Conscience .  But  why,  it  may 
be  asked,  do  these  feelings,  rather  than  others,  run  into 
each  other,  and  constitute  Conscience?  The  answer 
seems  to  be  what  has  already  been  intimated  in  the  ob¬ 
servations  on  Butler.  The  affinity  between  these  feel¬ 
ings  consists  in  this,  that  while  all  other  feelings  f^latg 
to  outward  objects,  they  alone  contemplate  exclusively 
the  dispositions  and  actions  of  voluntary  agents. 
When  they  are  completely  transferred  from  objectsyand 
even  persons,  to  dispositions  and  actions,  they  are  "fitted, 
by  the  perfect  coincidence  of  their  aim ,  for  combining 
to  form  that  one  faculty  which  is  directed  only  to  that 
aim. 

The  words  Duty  and  Virtue ,  and  the  word  Ought , 
which  most  perfectly  denotes  Duty ,  but  is  also  connect¬ 
ed  with  Virtue ,  in  every  well-constituted  mind,  in  this 
state  become  the  fit  language  of  the  acquired,  perhaps,  but 
universally  and  necessarily  acquired,  faculty  of  Con¬ 
science.  Some  account  of  its  peculiar  nature  has  been 
attempted  in  the  remarks  on  Rutler ; — for  others  a  fitter 
occasion  will  occur  hereafter.  Some  light  may  however 
now  be  thrown  on  the  subject  by  a  short  statement  of 
the  hitherto  unobserved  distinction  between  the  moral 
sentiments  and  another  class  of  feelings  with  which  they 


172 


PROGRESS  OF 


have  some  qualities  in  common.  The  pleasures  (so  call¬ 
ed)  of  Imagination  appear,  at  least  in  most  cases,  to  ori¬ 
ginate  in  association.  But  it  is  not  till  the  original  cause 
of  the  gratification  is  obliterated  from  the  mind,  that  they 
acquire  their  proper  character.  Order  and  proportion 
may  be  at  first  chosen  for  their  convenience  :  it  is  not  un¬ 
til  they  are  admired  for  their  own  sake  that  they  become 
objects  of  taste.  Though  all  the  proportions  for  which 
a  horse  is  valued  may  be  indications  of  speed,  safety, 
strength,  and  health,  it  is  not  the  less  true  that  they  only 
can  be  said  to  admire  the  animal  for  his  beauty,  who 
leave  such  considerations  out  of  the  account  while  they 
admire.  The  pleasure  of  contemplation  in  these  par¬ 
ticulars  of  nature  and  art  becomes  universal  and  immedi¬ 
ate,  being  entirely  detached  from  all  regard  to  indivi¬ 
dual  beings.  It  contemplates  neither  use  nor  interest. 
In  this  important  particular  the  pleasures  of  imagination 
agree  with  the  moral  sentiments.  Hence  the  application 
of  the  same  language  to  both  in  ancient  and  modern  times. 
Hence  also  it  arises  that  they  may  contemplate  the  very 
same  qualities  and  objects.  There  is  certainly  much 
beauty  in  the  softer  virtues — much  grandeur  in  the  soul 
of  a  Hero  or  a  Martyr.  But  the  essential  distinction 
still  remains.  The  purest  moral  taste  contemplates  these 
qualities  only  with  quiescent  delight  or  reverence.  It 
has  no  further  view; — it  points  towards  no  action. 
Conscience,  on  the  contrary,  containing  in  it  a  pleasure 
in  the  prospect  of  doing  right,  and  an  ardent  desire  to 
act  well,  having  for  its  sole  object  the  dispositions  and 
acts  of  voluntary  agents,  is  not,  like  moral  taste,  satisfied 
with  passive  contemplation,  but  constantly  tends  to  act 
on  the  will  and  conduct  of  the  man.  Moral  taste  may 
aid  it,  may  be  absorbed  into  it,  and  usually  contributes 
its  part  to  the  formation  of  the  moral  faculty;  but  it  is 
distinct  from  that  faculty,  and  maybe  disproportioned  to 
it.  Conscience,  being  by  its  nature  confined  to  mental 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


173 


dispositions  and  voluntary  acts,  is  of  necessity  excluded 
from  the  ordinary  consideration  of  all  things  antecedent 
to  these  dispositions.  The  circumstances  from  which 
such  states  of  mind  may  arise,  are  most  important  objects 
of  consideration  for  the  understanding;  but  they  are  with¬ 
out  the  sphere  of  conscience,  which  never  ascends  be¬ 
yond  the  heart  of  the  man.  It  is  thus  that  in  the  eye  of 
conscience  man  becomes  amenable  to  its  authority  for  all 
his  inclinations  as  well  as  deeds;  that  some  of  them  are 
approved,  loved,  and  revered  ;  and  that  all  the  outward 
effects  of  disesteem,  contempt,  or  moral  anger,  are  felt  to 
be  the  just  lot  of  others. 

But,  to  return  to  Hartley,  from  this  perhaps  intru¬ 
sive  statement  of  what  does  not  properly  belong  to  him : 
He  represents  all  the  social  affections  of  gratitude,  vene¬ 
ration,  and  love,  inspired  by  the  virtues  of  our  fellow- 
men,  as  capable  of  being  transferred  by  association  to 
the  transcendent  and  unmingled  goodness  of  the  Ruler 
of  the  world,  and  thus  to  give  rise  to  piety,  to  which  he 
gives  the  nameof  the  theopathetic  affection.  This  prin¬ 
ciple,  like  all  the  former  in  the  mental  series,  is  gradu¬ 
ally  detached  from  the  trunk  on  which  it  grew  :  it  takes 
separate  root,  and  may  altogether  overshadow  the  pa¬ 
rent  stock.  As  such  a  being  cannot  be  conceived  with¬ 
out  the  most  perfect  and  constant  reference  to  his  good¬ 
ness,  so  piety  may  not  only  become  a  part  of  conscience, 
but  its  governing  and  animating  principle,  which,  after 
long  lending  its  own  energy  and  authority  to  every  other, 
is  at  last  described  by  our  philosopher  as  swallowing  up 
all  of  them  in  order  to  perform  the  same  functions  more 
infallibly. 

In  every  stage  of  this  progress  we  are  taught  by  Dr 
Hartley  that  a  new  product  appears,  which  becomes 
perfectly  distinct  from  the  elements  which  formed  it, 
which  may  be  utterly  dissimilar  to  them,  and  may  at¬ 
tain  any  degree  of  vigour,  however  superior  to  theirs. 


174 


PROGRESS  OF 


Thus  the  objects  of  the  private  desires  disappear  when 
we  are  employed  in  the  pursuit  of  our  lasting  welfare  ; 
that  which  was  first  sought  only  as  a  means,  may  come 
to  be  pursued  as  an  end,  and  preferred  to  the  original 
end  ;  the  good  opinion  of  our  fellows  becomes  more  va¬ 
lued  than  the  benefits  for  which  it  was  first  courted  ;  a 
man  is  ready  to  sacrifice  his  life  for  him  who  has  shown 
generosity,  even  to  others ;  and  persons  otherwise  of 
common  character  are  capable  of  cheerfully  marching 
in  a  forlorn  hope,  or  of  almost  instinctively  leaping  into 
the  sea  to  save  the  life  of  an  entire  stranger.  These  last 
.  acts,  often  of  almost  unconscious  virtue,  so  familiar  to  the 
soldier  and  the  sailor,  so  unaccountable  on  certain  sys¬ 
tems  of  philosophy,  often  occur  without  a  thought  of  ap¬ 
plause  and  reward  ;  too  quickly  for  the  thought  of  the 
latter,  too  obscurely  for  the  hope  of  the  former  ;  and 
they  are  of  such  a  nature  that  no  man  could  be  impell¬ 
ed  to  them  by  the  mere  expectation  of  either. 

The  gratitude,  sympathy,  resentment,  and  shame, 
which  are  the  principal  constituent  parts  of  the  Moral 
Sense,  thus  lose  their  separate  agency,  and  constitute  an 
entirely  new  faculty,  co- extensive  with  all  the  disposi¬ 
tions  and  actions  of  voluntary  agents  ;  though  some  of 
them  are  more  predominant  in  particular  cases  of  moral 
sentiment  than  others,  and  though  the  aid  of  all  contin¬ 
ues  to  be  necessary  in  their  original  character,  as  sub¬ 
ordinate  but  distinct  motives  of  action.  Nothing  more 
evidently  points  out  the  distinction  of  the  Hartleian 
system  from  all  systems  called  selfish,  not  to  say  its  su¬ 
periority  in  respect  to  disinterestedness  over  all  moral 
systems  before  Butler  and  Hutcheson,  than  that  excel¬ 
lent  part  of  it  which  relates  to  the  Rule  of  Life.  The 
various  principles  of  human  action  rise  in  value  accord¬ 
ing  to  the  order  in  which  they  spring  up  after  each 
other.  We  can  then  only  be  in  a  state  of  as  much  enjoy¬ 
ment  as  we  are  evidently  capable  of  attaining,  when  we 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


175 


prefer  interest  to  the  original  gratifications — honour  to 
interest — the  pleasures  of  imagination  to  those  of  sense 
— the  dictates  of  conscience  to  pleasure,  interest,  and 
reputation — the  well-being  of  fellow-creatures  to  our 
own  indulgences  ;  in  a  word,  when  we  pursue  moral 
good  and  social  happiness  chiefly  and  for  their  own  sake. 

“  With  self-interest/7  says  Hartley,  somewhat  inaccu¬ 
rately  in  language,  “man  must  begin.  He  may  end  in 
self-annihilation.  Theopathy,  or  piety,  although  the 
last  result  of  the  purified  and  exalted  sentiments,  may 
at  length  swallow  up  every  other  principle,  and  absorb 
the  whole  man.77  Even  if  this  last  doctrine  should  be 
an  exaggeration  unsuited  to  our  present  condition,  it 
will  the  more  strongly  illustrate  the  compatibility,  or 
rather  the  necessary  connection,  of  this  theory  with  the 
existence  and  power  of  perfectly  disinterested  princi¬ 
ples  of  human  action. 

It  is  needless  to  remark  on  the  secondary  and  auxili¬ 
ary  causes  which  contribute  to  the  formation  of  moral 
sentiment ;  education,  imitation,  general  opinion,  laws 
and  government.  They  all  presuppose  the  moral  fac¬ 
ulty  :  in  an  improved  state  of  society  they  contribute 
powerfully  to  strengthen  it,  and  on  some  occasions  they 
enfeeble,  distort,  and  maim  it ;  but  in  all  cases  they 
must  themselves  be  tried  by  the  test  of  an  ethical  stan¬ 
dard. 

The  value  of  this  doctrine  will  not  be  essentially  . 
affected  by  supposing  a  greater  number  of  original  prin¬ 
ciples  than  those  assumed  by  Dr  Hartley.  The  princi¬ 
ple  of  association  applies  as  much  to  a  greater  as  to  a 
smaller  number.  It  is  a  quality  common  to  it  with  all 
theories,  that  the  more  simplicity  it  reaches  consistently 
with  truth,  the  more  perfect  it  becomes.  Causes  are 
not  to  be  multiplied  without  necessity.  If  by  a  consi¬ 
derable  multiplication  of  primary  desires  the  law  of  as¬ 
sociation  were  lowered  nearly  to  the  level  of  an  auxili- 


176 


PROGRESS  OF 


ary  agent,  the  philosophy  of  human  nature  would  still 
be  under  indelible  obligations  to  the  philosopher  who, 
by  his  fortunate  error,  rendered  the  importance  of  that 
great  principle  obvious  and  conspicuous. 

Abraham  Tucker.* 

It  has  been  the  remarkable  fortune  of  this  writer  to 
have  been  more  prized  by  the  cultivators  of  the  same 
subjects,  and  more  disregarded  by  the  generality  even 
of  those  who  read  books  on  such  matters,  than  perhaps 
any  other  philosopher.f  He  had  many  of  the  qualities 
which  might  be  expected  in  an  affluent  country  gentle¬ 
man,  living  in  a  privacy  undisturbed  by  political  zeal, 
and  with  a  leisure  unbroken  by  the  calls  of  a  profession, 
at  a  time  when  England  had  not  entirely  renounced  her 
old  taste  for  metaphysical  speculation.  He  was  natu¬ 
rally  endowed,  not  indeed  with  more  than  ordinary 
acuteness  or  sensibility,  nor  with  a  high  degree  of  reach 
and  range  of  mind,  but  with  a  singular  capacity  for  care¬ 
ful  observation  and  original  reflection,  and  with  a  fancy 
perhaps  unmatched  in  producing  various  and  happy 
illustration.  The  most  observable  of  his  moral  qualities 
appear  to  have  been  prudence  and  cheerfulness,  good 
nature  and  easy  temper.  The  influence  of  his  situation 
and  character  is  visible  in  his  writings.  Indulging  his 
own  tastes  and  fancies,  like  most  English  squires  of  his 
time,  he  became,  like  many  of  them,  a  sort  of  humourist. 
Hence  much  of  his  originality  and  independence  ;  hence 


- 


*  Born  in  1705;  died  in  1774. 

t  “  I  have  found  in  this  writer  more  original  thinking  and  observation 
upon  the  several  subjects  that  he  has  taken  in  hand  than  in  any  other,  not 
to  say  than  in  all  others  put  together.  Ilis  talent  also  for  illustration  is  un¬ 
rivalled.”  (Paley,  Preface  to  Moral  and  Political  Philosophy.)  See  the 
excellent  preface  to  an  abridgement,  by  Mr  Hazlitt,  of  Tucker’s  work,  pub¬ 
lished  in  London  in  1807.  May  I  venture  to  refer  also  to  my  own  discourse 
on  the  Law  of  Nature  and  Nations,  London,  1?99.  Mr  Stewart  treats 
Tucker  and  Hartley  with  unwonted  harshness. 

4 

■  V  ' 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


177 


the  boldness  with  which  he  openly  employs  illustrations 
from  homely  objects.  He  wrote  to  please  himself  more 
than  the  public.  He  had  too  little  regard  for  readers, 
either  to  sacrifice  his  sincerity  to  them,  or  to  curb  his 
own  prolixity,  repetition,  and  egotism,  from  the  fear  of 
fatiguing  them.  Hence  he  became  as  loose,  as  rambling, 
and  as  much  an  egotist  as  Montaigne ;  but  not  so  agree¬ 
ably  so,  notwithstanding  a  considerable  resemblance  of 
genius  ;  because  he  wrote  on  subjects  where  disorder  and 
egotism  are  unseasonable,  and  for  readers  whom  they  dis¬ 
turb  instead  of  amusing.  His  prolixity  at  last  increased 
itself,  when  his  work  became  so  long,  that  repetition  in 
the  latter  parts  partly  arose  from  forgetfulness  of  the 
former  ;  and  though  his  freedom  from  slavish  deference 
to  general  opinion  is  very  commendable,  it  must  be  own¬ 
ed,  that  his  want  of  a  wholesome  fear  of  the  public  ren¬ 
ders  the  perusal  of  a  work  which  is  extremely  interest¬ 
ing,  and  even  amusing  in  most  of  its  parts,  on  the  whole 
a  laborious  task.  He  was  by  early  education  a  believer 
in  Christianity,  if  not  by  natural  character  religious. 
His  calm  good  sense  and  accommodating  temper  led  him 
rather  to  explain  established  doctrines  in  a  manner  agree¬ 
able  to  his  philosophy,  than  to  assail  them.  Hence  he 
was  represented  as  a  time  server  by  free-thinkers,  and  as 
a  heretic  by  the  orthodox.*  Living  in  a  country  where 
the  secure  tranquillity  flowing  from  the  Revolution  was 
gradually  drawing  forth  all  mental  activity  towards  prac¬ 
tical  pursuits  and  outward  objects,  he  hastened  from  the 
rudiments  of  mental  and  moral  philosophy,  to  those 
branches  of  it  which  touch  the  business  of  raen.f  Had 


*  This  disposition  to  compromise  and  accommodation,  which  is  discover¬ 
able  in  Paley,  was  carried  to  its  utmost  length  by  Mr  Hey,  a  man  of  much 
acuteness,  Professor  of  Divinity  at  Cambridge. 

f  Perhaps  no  philosopher  ever  stated  more  justly,  more  naturally,  or 
more  modestly  than  Tucker,  the  ruling  maxim  of  his  life.  “  My  thoughts,” 
says  he,  “  have  taken  a  turn  from  my  earliest  youth  towards  searching  into 
the  foundations  and  measures  of  right  and  wrong;  my  love  for  retirement 

X 


178 


PROGRESS  OF 


he  recast  without  changing  his  thoughts, — had  he  de¬ 
tached  those  ethical  observations  for  which  he  had  so 
peculiar  a  vocation,  from  the  disputes  of  his  country  and 
his  day, — he  might  have  thrown  many  of  his  chapters 
into  their  proper  form  of  essays,  which  might  have  been 
compared,  though  not  likened,  to  those  of  Hume.  But 
the  country  gentleman,  philosophic  as  he  was,  had  too 
much  fondness  for  his  own  humours  to  engage  in  a  course 
of  drudgery  and  deference.  It  may,  however,  be  confi¬ 
dently  added,  on  the  authority  of  all  those  who  have 
fairly  made  the  experiment,  that  whoever,  unfettered  by 
a  previous  system,  undertakes  the  labour  necessary  to 
discover  and  relish  the  high  excellencies  of  this  meta¬ 
physical  Montaigne,  will  find  his  toil  lightened  as  he  pro¬ 
ceeds,  by  a  growing  indulgence,  if  not  partiality,  for  the 
foibles  of  the  humourist;  and  at  last  rewarded,  in  a  greater 
degree  perhaps  than  by  any  other  writer  on  mixed  and 
applied  philosophy,  by  being  led  to  commanding  stations 
and  new  points  of  view,  whence  the  mind  of  a  moralist 
can  hardly  fail  to  catch  some  fresh  prospects  of  nature 
and  duty. 

It  is  in  mixed,  not  in  pure  philosophy,  that  his  supe¬ 
riority  consists.  In  the  part  of  his  work  which  relates 
to  the  intellect,  he  has  adopted  much  from  Hartley, 
hiding  but  aggravating  the  offence  by  a  change  of  tech¬ 
nical  terms ;  and  he  was  ungrateful  enough  to  counte¬ 
nance  the  vulgar  sneer  which  involves  the  mental  analy¬ 
sis  of  that  philosopher  in  the  ridicule  to  which  his  phy¬ 
siological  hypothesis  is  liable.*  Thus,  for  the  Hartleian 


has  furnished  me  with  continual  leisure;  and  the  exercise  of  my  reason  has 
been  my  daily  employment. 

*  Light  of  Nature,  I.  c.  xviii.  of  which  the  conclusion  may  be  pointed 
out  as  a  specimen  of  perhaps  unmatched  fruitfulness,  vivacity,  and  felicity 
of  illustration.  The  admirable  sense  of  the  conclusion  of  chap.  xxv.  seems 
to  have  suggested  Paley’s  good  chapter  on  Happiness.  The  alteration  of 
Plato’s  comparison  of  reason  to  a  charioteer,  and  the  passions  to  the  horses, 
in  chap.  xxvi.  is  of  characteristic  and  transcendent  excellence. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


179 


term  Association  he  substitutes  that  of  Translation ,  when 
he  adopts  the  same  theory  of  the  principles  which  move 
the  mind  to  action.  In  the  practical  and  applicable  part 
of  that  inquiry  he  indeed  far  surpasses  Hartley;  and  it  is 
little  to  add,  that  he  unspeakably  exceeds  that  bare  and 
naked  thinker  in  the  useful  as  well  as  admirable  faculty 
of  illustration.  In  the  strictly  theoretical  part  his  expo¬ 
sition  is  considerably  fuller ;  but  the  defect  of  his  genius 
becomes  conspicuous  when  he  handles  a  very  general 
principle.  The  very  term  Translation  ought  to  have 
kept  up  in  his  mind  a  steady  conviction  that  the  secon¬ 
dary  motives  to  action  become  as  independent,  and  seek 
their  own  objects  as  exclusively,  as  the  primary  princi¬ 
ples.  His  own  examples  are  rich  in  proofs  of  this  im¬ 
portant  truth.  But  there  is  a  slippery  descent  in  the 
Theory  of  Human  Nature,  by  which  he,  like  most  of  his 
forerunners,  slid  unawares  into  selfishness.  He  was  not 
preserved  from  this  fall  by  seeing  that  all  the  deliberate 
principles  which  have  self  for  their  object  are  themselves 
of  secondary  formation ;  and  he  was  led  to  the  general 
error  by  the  notion  that  Pleasure,  or,  as  he  calls  it,  Satis¬ 
faction,  was  the  original  and  sole  object  of  all  appetites 
and  desires  ;  confounding  this  with  the  true  but  very  dif¬ 
ferent  proposition,  that  the  attainment  of  all  the  objects 
of  appetite  and  desire  is  productive  of  pleasure.  He  did 
not  see  that,  without  presupposing  Desires,  the  word 
Pleasure  would  have  no  signification ;  and  that  the  repre¬ 
sentations  by  which  he  was  seduced  would  leave  only  one 
appetite  or  desire  in  human  nature.  He  had  no  adequate 
and  constant  conception,  that  the  translation  of  Desire 
from  the  end  to  the  means  occasioned  the  formation  of  a 
new  passion,  which  is  perfectly  distinct  from,  and  alto¬ 
gether  independent  of,  the  original  desire.  Too  fre¬ 
quently  (for  he  was  neither  obstinate  nor  uniform  in  er¬ 
ror)  he  considered  these  translations  as  accidental  defects 
in  human  nature,  not  as  the  appointed  means  of  supply- 


180 


PROGRESS  OF 


ing  it  with  its  variety  of  active  principles.  He  was  too 
apt  to  speak  as  if  the  selfish  elements  were  not  destroyed 
in  the  new  combination,  but  remaining  still  capable  of 
being  recalled,  when  convenient,  like  the  links  in  a  chain 
of  reasoning,  which  we  pass  over  from  forgetfulness,  or 
for  brevity.  Take  him  all  in  all,  however,  the  neglect 
of  his  writings  is  the  strongest  proof  of  the  disinclination 
of  the  English  nation,  for  the  last  half  century,  to  Meta¬ 
physical  Philosophy.* 

William  Paley.| 

This  excellent  writer,  who,  after  Clarke  and  Butler, 
ought  to  he  ranked  among  the  brightest  ornaments  of  the 
English  church  in  the  eighteenth  century,  is,  in  the  his¬ 
tory  of  philosophy,  naturally  placed  after  Tucker,  to 
whom,  with  praiseworthy  liberality,  he  owns  his  extensive 
obligations.  It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  he  owed  his 
system  to  Hume,  a  thinker  too  refined,  and  a  writer  per¬ 
haps  too  elegant,  to  have  naturally  attracted  him.  A  co¬ 
incidence  in  the  principle  of  utility,  common  to  both  with 
so  many  other  philosophers,  affords  no  sufficient  ground 
for  the  supposition.  Had  he  been  habitually  influenced 
by  Mr  Hume,  who  has  translated  so  many  of  the  dark 
and  crabbed  passages  of  Butler  into  his  own  transparent 
as  well  as  beautiful  language,  it  is  not  possible  to  suppose 
that  such  a  mind  as  that  of  Paley  should  have  fallen  into 


*  Much  of  Tucker’s  chapter  on  Pleasure,  and  of  Raley’s  on  Happiness 
(both  of  which  are  invaluable),  is  contained  in  the  passage  of  The  Traveller , 
of  which  the  following  couplet  expresses  the  main  object: 

“  Unknown  to  them  when  sensual  pleasures  cloy, 

“  To  fill  the  languid  pause  with  finer  joy.” 

“An  honest  man,”  says  Mr  Hume,  “has  the  frequent  satisfaction  of  see¬ 
ing  knaves  betrayed  by  their  own  maxims.”  ( Enquiry  into  Morals. ) 

“I  used  often  to  laugh  at  your  honest  simple  neighbour  Flamborough, 
and  one  way  or  another  generally  cheated  him  once  a  year.  Yet  still  the 
honest  man  went  forward  without  suspicion,  and  grew  rich,  while  I  still 
continued  tricksy  and  cunning,  and  was  poor,  without  the  consolation  of 
being  honest.”  (  Vicar  of  Wakefield,  chap,  xxvi.) 
f  Horn  in  1743;  died  in  1805. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


181 


those  principles  of  gross  selfishness  of  which  Mr  Hume 
is  a  uniform  zealous  antagonist. 

The  natural  frame  of  Paley’s  understanding  fitted  it 
more  for  business  and  the  world  than  for  philosophy;  and 
he  accordingly  enjoyed  with  considerable  relish  the  few 
opportunities  which  the  latter  part  of  his  life  afforded  of 
taking  a  part  in  the  affairs  of  his  county  as  a  magistrate. 
Penetration  and  shrewdness,  firmness  and  coolness,  a  vein 
of  pleasantry,  fruitful  though  somewhat  unrefined,  with 
an  original  homeliness  and  significancy  of  expression, 
were  perhaps  more  remarkable  in  his  conversation  than 
the  restraints  of  authorship  and  profession  allowed  them 
to  be  in  his  writings.  Grateful  remembrance  brings  this 
assemblage  of  qualities  with  unfaded  colours  before  the 
mind  at  the  present  moment,  after  the  long  interval  of 
twenty- eight  years.  His  taste  for  the  common  business 
and  ordinary  amusements  of  life  fortunately  gave  a  zest  to 
the  company  which  his  neighbourhood  chanced  to  yield, 
without  rendering  him  insensible  to  (he  pleasures  of  inter¬ 
course  with  more  enlightened  society.  The  practical  bent 
of  his  nature  is  visible  in  the  language  of  his  writings, 
which,  on  practical  matters,  is  as  precise  as  the  nature  of 
the  subject  requires,  but,  in  his  rare  and  reluctant  efforts 
to  rise  to  first  principles,  becomes  indeterminate  and  un¬ 
satisfactory;  though  no  man’s  composition  was  more  free 
from  the’,  impediments  which  hinder  a  writer’s  meaning 
from  being  quickly  and  clearly  seen.  He  seldom  distin¬ 
guishes  more  exactly  than  is  required  for  palpable  and 
direct  usefulness.  Pie  possessed  that  chastised  acuteness 
of  discrimination,  exercised  on  the  affairs  of  men,  and 
habitually  looking  to  a  purpose  beyond  the  mere  increase 
of  knowledge,  which  forms  the  character  of  a  lawyer’s 
understanding,  and  which  is  apt  to  render  a  mere  law¬ 
yer  too  subtile  for  the  management  of  affairs,  and  yet  too 
gross  for  the  pursuit  of  general  truth.  His  style  is  as 
near  perfection  in  its  kind  as  any  in  our  language.  Per- 


182 


PROGRESS  OF 


haps  no  words  were  ever  more  expressive  and  illustra¬ 
tive  than  those  in  which  he  represents  the  art  of  life  to 
be  that  of  rightly  u  setting  our  habits.” 

The  most  original  and  ingenious  of  his  writings  is  the 
Horx  Paulinx.  The  Evidences  of  Christianity  are 
formed  out  of  an  admirable  translation  of  Butler’s  Anal¬ 
ogy,  and  a  most  skilful  abridgement  of  Lardner’s  Credi¬ 
bility  of  the  Gospel  History.  He  may  be  said  to  have 
thus  given  value  to  two  works,  of  which  the  first  was 
scarcely  intelligible  to  most  of  those  who  were  most  de¬ 
sirous  of  profiting  by  it ;  and  the  second  soon  wearies 
out  the  greater  part  of  readers,  though  the  few  who  are 
more  patient  have  almost  always  been  gradually  won 
over  to  feel  pleasure  in  a  display  of  knowledge,  probity, 
charity  and  meekness,  unmatched  by  an  avowed  advo¬ 
cate  in  a  case  deeply  interesting  his  warmest  feelings. 
His  JYatural  Theology  is  the  wonderful  work  of  a  man 
who,  after  sixty,  had  studied  anatomy  in  order  to  write 
it ;  and  it  could  only  have  been  surpassed  by  a  man  who, 
to  great  originality  of  conception  and  clearness  of  ex¬ 
position,  added  the  advantage  of  a  high  place  in  the  first 
class  of  physiologists.* 

It  would  be  unreasonable  here  to  say  much  of  a  work 
which  is  in  the  hands  of  so  many  as  his  Moral  and  Po¬ 
litical  Philosophy.  A  very  few  remarks  on  one  or  two 
parts  of  it  may  be  sufficient  to  estimate  his  value  as  a 
moralist,  and  to  show  his  defects  as  a  metaphysician. 
His  general  account  of  virtue  may  indeed  be  chosen  for 
both  purposes.  The  manner  in  which  he  deduces  the 
necessary  tendency  of  all  virtuous  actions  to  the  general 
happiness,  from  the  goodness  of  the  Divine  Lawgiver, 
though  the  principle  be  not,  as  has  already  more  than 
once  appeared,  peculiar  to  him,  but  rather  common  to 


*  See  Animal  Mechanics,  by  Mr  Charles  Bell,  published  by  the  Society 
for  Useful  Knowledge. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


183 


most  religious  philosophers,  is  characterized  by  a  clear¬ 
ness  and  vigour  which  have  never  been  surpassed.  It 
is  indeed  nearly,  if  not  entirely,  an  identical  proposition, 
that  a  Being  of  unmixed  benevolence  will  prescribe 
those  laws  onlv  to  his  creatures  which  contribute  to 

V* 

their  wellbeing.  When  we  are  convinced  that  a  course 
of  conduct  is  generally  beneficial  to  all  men,  wre  cannot 
help  considering  it  as  acceptable  to  a  benevolent  Deity. 
The  usefulness  of  actions  is  the  mark  set  on  them  by  the 
Supreme  Legislator,  by  which  reasonable  beings  discover 
it  to  be  His  will  that  such  actions  should  be  done.  In 
this  apparently  unanswerable  deduction  it  is  partly  ad¬ 
mitted,  and  universally  implied,  that  the  principles  of 
right  and  wrong  may  be  treated  apart  from  the  manifes¬ 
tation  of  them  in  the  Scriptures.  If  it  were  otherwise, 
how  could  men  of  perfectly  different  religions,  deal  or 
reason  with  each  other  on  moral  subjects  ?  How  could 
they  regard  rights  and  duties  as  subsisting  between 
them  ?  To  what  common  principles  could  they  appeal 
in  their  differences?  Even  the  Polytheists  themselves, 
those  worshippers  of 

Gods  partial,  changeful,  passionate,  unjust, 

Whose  attributes  are  rage,  revenge,  or  lust, 

by  a  happy  inconsistency  are  compelled,  however  irre¬ 
gularly  and  imperfectly,  to  ascribe  some  general  enforce¬ 
ment  of  the  moral  code  to  their  divinities.  If  there 
were  no  foundation  for  morality  antecedent  to  revealed 
religion,  we  should  want  that  important  test  of  the  con¬ 
formity  of  a  revelation  to  pure  morality,  by  which  its 
claim  to  a  divine  origin  is  to  be  tried.  The  internal 
evidence  of  religion  necessarily  presupposes  such  a  stand¬ 
ard.  The  Christian  contrasts  the  precepts  of  the  Koran 
with  the  pure  and  benevolent  morality  of  the  Gospel. 
The  Mahometan  claims,  with  justice,  a  superiority  over 
the  Hindoo,  inasmuch  as  the  Mussulman  religion  incul- 


184 


PROGRESS  OF 


cates  the  moral  perfection  of  one  Supreme  Ruler  of  the 
world.  The  ceremonial  and  exclusive  character  of 
Judaism  has  ever  been  regarded  as  an  indication  that  it 
was  intended  to  pave  the  way  for  a  universal  religion, — 
a  morality  seated  in  the  heart,  and  a  worship  of  sublime 
simplicity.  These  discussions  would  be  impossible,  un¬ 
less  morality  were  previously  proved  or  granted  to  exist. 
Though  the  science  of  ethics  is  thus  far  independent,  it 
by  no  means  follows  that  there  is  any  equality,  or  that 
there  may  not  be  the  utmost  inequality,  in  the  moral 
tendency  of  religious  systems.  The  most  ample  scope 
is  still  left  for  the  zeal  and  activity  of  those  who  seek  to 
spread  important  truth.  But  it  is  absolutely  essential 
to  ethical  science  that  it  should  contain  principles,  the 
authority  of  which  must  be  recognised  by  men  of  every 
conceivable  variety  of  religious  opinion. 

The  peculiarities  of  Paley's  mind  are  discoverable  in 
the  comparison,  or  rather  contrast,  between  the  practi¬ 
cal  chapter  on  Happiness,  and  the  philosophical  portion 
of  the  chapter  on  Virtue.  <{  Virtue  is  the  doing  good 
to  mankind,  in  obedience  to  the  will  of  God,  and  for 
the  sake  of  everlasting  happiness.77*  It  is  not  perhaps 
very  important  to  observe,  that  these  words,  which  he 
offers  as  “a  definition,77  ought  in  propriety  to  have  been 
called  a  proposition  ;  but  it  is  much  more  necessary  to 
say  that  they  contain  a  false  account  of  virtue.  Ac¬ 
cording  to  this  doctrine,  every  action  not  done  for  the 
sake  of  the  agent's  happiness  is  vicious.  Now,  it  is 
plain  that  an  act  cannot  be  said  to  be  done  for  the  sake 
of  any  thing  which  is  not  present  to  the  mind  of  the 
agent  at  the  moment  of  action.  It  is  a  contradiction  in 
terms  to  affirm  that  a  man  acts  for  the  sake  of  any  object, 
of  which,  however  it  may  he  the  necessary  consequence 
of  his  act,  he  is  not  at  the  time  fully  aware.  The  un- 


*  P ALr.r,  book  i.  chap.  vii. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


185 


felt  consequences  of  his  act  can  no  more  influence  his 
will  than  its  unknown  consequences.  Nay,  further,  a 
man  is  only  with  any  propriety  said  to  act  for  the  sake 
of  his  chief  object  $  nor  can  he  with  entire  correctness 
be  said  to  act  for  the  sake  of  any  thing  but  his  sole  ob¬ 
ject.  So  that  it  is  a  necessary  consequence  of  Paley’s 
proposition,  that  every  act  which  flows  from  generosity 
or  benevolence  is  a  vice.  So  also  of  every  act  of  obedi¬ 
ence  to  the  will  of  God,  if  it  arises  from  any  motive  but 
a  desire  of  the  reward  which  he  will  bestow.  Any  act 
of  obedience  influenced  by  gratitude,  and  affection,  and 
veneration  towards  supreme  benevolence  and  perfection, 
is  so  far  imperfect ;  and  if  it  arises  solely  from  these 
motives  it  becomes  a  vice.  It  must  be  owned,  that  this 
excellent  and  most  enlightened  man  has  laid  the  founda¬ 
tions  of  religion  and  virtue  in  a  more  intense  and  exclu¬ 
sive  selfishness  than  was  avowed  by  the  Catholic  enemies 
of  Fenelon,  when  they  persecuted  him  for  his  doctrine 
of  a  pure  and  disinterested  love  of  God. 

In  another  province,  of  a  very  subordinate  kind,  the 
disposition  of  Paley  to  limit  his  principles  to  his  own 
time  and  country,  and  to  look  at  them  merely  as  far  as 
they  are  calculated  to  amend  prevalent  vices  and  errors, 
betrayed  him  into  narrow  and  false  views.  His  chapter 
on  what  he  calls  the Law  of  Honour  is  unjust,  even  in 
its  own  small  sphere,  because  it  supposes  honour  to  al¬ 
low  what  it  does  not  forbid ;  though  the  truth  be,  that 
the  vices  enumerated  by  him  are  only  not  forbidden  by 
honour,  because  they  are  not  within  its  jurisdiction. 
He  considers  it  as  “  a  system  of  rules  constructed  by  peo¬ 
ple  of  fashion  f — a  confused  and  transient  mode  of  ex¬ 
pression,  which  may  be  understood  with  difficulty  by 
our  posterity,  and  which  cannot  now  be  exactly  ren¬ 
dered  perhaps  in  any  other  language. 

The  subject,  however,  thus  narrowed  and  lowered,  is 
neither  unimportant  in  practice,  nor  unworthy  of  the 
Y 


186 


PROGRESS  OF 


consideration  of  the  moral  philosopher.  Though  alf 
mankind  honour  virtue  and  despise  vice,  the  degree  of 
respect  or  contempt  is  often  far  from  being  proportioned 
to  the  place  which  virtues  and  vices  occupy  in  a  just 
system  of  Ethics.  Wherever  higher  honour  is  bestowred 
on  one  moral  quality  than  on  others  of  equal  or  greater 
moral  value,  what  is  called  a  point  of  honour  may  be 
scticl  to  exist.  It  is  singular  that  so  shrewd  an  observer 
as  Paley  should  not  have  observed  a  law  of  honour  far 
more  permanent  than  that  which  attracted  his  notice,  in 
the  feelings  of  Europe  respecting  the  conduct  of  men  and 
women.  Cowardice  is  not  so  immoral  as  cruelty,  nor  in¬ 
deed  so  detestable,  but  it  is  more  despicable  and  dis¬ 
graceful.  The  female  point  of  honour  forbids  indeed  a 
great  vice,  but  one  not  so  great  as  many  others  by  which 
it  is  not  violated.  It  is  easy  enough  to  see,  that  where 
we  are  strongly  prompted  to  a  virtue  by  a  natural  im¬ 
pulse,  we  love  the  man  who  is  constantly  actuated  by 
the  amiable  sentiment,  but  we  do  not  consider  that 
which  is  done  without  difficulty  as  requiring  or  deserv¬ 
ing  admiration  and  distinction.  The  kind  affections  are 
their  own  rich  reward,  and  they  are  the  object  of  affec¬ 
tion  to  others.  To  encourage  kindness  by  praise  would 
be  to  insult  it,  besides  its  effect  in  producing  counter¬ 
feits.  It  is  for  the  conquest  of  fear,  it  would  be  still 
more  for  the  conquest  of  resentment,  if  that  were  not, 
wherever  it  is  real,  the  cessation  of  a  state  of  mental 
agony,  that  the  applause  of  mankind  is  reserved.  Ob¬ 
servations  of  a  similar  nature  will  easily  occur  to  every 
reader  respecting  the  point  of  honour  in  the  other  sex. 
The  conquest  of  natural  frailties,  especially  in  a  case  of 
far  more  importance  to  mankind  than  is  at  first  sight  ob¬ 
vious,  is  well  distinguished  as  an  object  of  honour,  and 
the  contrary  vice  is  punished  by  shame.  Honour  is  not 
wasted  on  those  who  abstain  from  acts  which  are  punish¬ 
ed  by  the  law.  These  acts  may  be  avoided  without  a 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


187 


pure  motive.  Wherever  a  virtue  is  easily  performed 
by  good  men — wherever  it  is  its  nature  to  be  attended 
by  delight — wherever  its  outward  observance  is  so  ne¬ 
cessary  to  society  as  to  be  enforced  by  punishment — it 
is  not  the  proper  object  of  honour.  Honour  and  shame, 
therefore,  may  be  reasonably  dispensed,  without  being 
strictly  proportioned  to  the  intrinsic  morality  of  actions, 
if  the  inequality  of  their  distribution  contributes  to  the 
general  equipoise  of  the  whole  moral  system. 

A  wide  disproportion,  however,  or  indeed  any  dis¬ 
proportion  not  justifiable  on  moral  grounds,  would  be  a 
depravation  of  the  moral  principle.  Duelling  is  among 
us  a  disputed  case,  though  the  improvement  of  manners 
has  rendered  it  so  much  more  infrequent,  that  it  is  likely 
in  time  to  lose  its  support  from  opinion.  Those  who  ex¬ 
cuse  individuals  for  yielding  to  a  false  point  of  honour, 
as  in  the  suicides  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  may  con¬ 
sistently  blame  the  faulty  principle,  and  rejoice  in  its- 
destruction.  The  shame  fixed  on  a  Hindoo  widow  of 
rank  who  voluntarily  survives  her  husband,  is  regarded 
by  all  other  nations  with  horror. 

There  is  room  for  great  praise  and  some  blame  in 
other  parts  of  Pa!ey?s  works.  His  political  opinions 
were  those  generally  adopted  by  moderate  whigs  in  his 
own  age.  His  language  on  the  Revolution  of  1688  may 
be  very  advantageously  compared,  both  in  precision  and 
in  generous  boldness,*  to  that  of  Blackstone,  a  great 
master  of  classical  and  harmonious  composition,  but  a 

*  “  Government  may  be  too  secure.  The  greatest  tyrants  have  been  those 
whose  titles  were  the  most  unquestioned.  Whenever,  therefore,  the  opi¬ 
nion  of  right  becomes  too  predominant  and  superstitious,  it  is  abated  by 
breaking  the  custom.  Thus  the  Revolution  broke  the  custom  of  succession, 
and  thereby  moderated,  both  in  the  prince  and  in  the  people,  those  lofty 
notions  of  hereditary  right,  which  in  the  one  were  become  a  continual  in¬ 
centive  to  tyranny,  and  disposed  the  other  to  invite  servitude,  by  undue 
^compliances  and  dangerous  concessions.”  (Paley,  book  vi.  chap,  ii.) 


188 


PROGRESS  OF 


feeble  reasoner  and  a  confused  thinker,  whose  writings 
are  not  exempt  from  the  taint  of  slavishness. 

It  cannot  he  denied  that  Paley  was  sometimes  rather 
a  lax  moralist,  especially  on  public  duties.  It  is  a  sin 
which  easily  besets  men  of  strong  good  sense,  little  en¬ 
thusiasm,  and  much  experience.  They  are  naturally 
led  to  lower  their  precepts  to  the  level  of  their  expecta¬ 
tions.  They  see  that  higher  pretensions  often  produce 
less  good,  to  say  nothing  of  the  hypocrisy,  extravagance, 
and  turbulence,  to  which  they  lend  some  colour.  As 
those  who  claim  more  from  men  often  gain  less,  it  is 
natural  for  more  sober  and  milder  casuists  to  present  a 
more  accessible  virtue  to  their  followers.  It  was  thus 
that  the  Jesuits  began,  till,  strongly  tempted  by  their 
perilous  station  as  the  moral  guides  of  the  powerful,  some 
of  them  by  degrees  fell  into  that  absolute  licentiousness 
for  which  all,  not  without  injustice,  have  been  cruelly 
immortalized  by  Pascal.  Indulgence,  which  is  a  great 
virtue  in  judgment  concerning  the  actions  of  others,  is 
too  apt,  when  blended  in  the  same  system  with  the  pre¬ 
cepts  of  morality,  to  be  received  as  a  licence  for  our  own 
offences.  Accommodation,  without  which  society  would 
be  painful,  and  arduous  allairs  would  become  impracti¬ 
cable,  is  more  safely  imbibed  from  temper  and  experi¬ 
ence,  than  taught  in  early  and  systematic  instruction. 
The  middle  region  between  laxity  and  rigour  is  hard  to 
be  fixed,  and  it  is  still  harder  steadily  to  remain  within 
its  boundaries.  Whatever  maybe  thought  of  Paley’s 
observations  on  political  influence  and  ecclesiastical  sub¬ 
scription,  as  temperaments  and  mitigations  which  may 
^preserve  us  from  harsh  judgment,  they  are  assuredly  not 
well  qualified  to  form  a  part  of  that  discipline  which 
ought  to  breathe  into  the  opening  souls  of  youth,  at  the 
critical  period  of  the  formation  of  character,  those  ines¬ 
timable  virtues  of  sincerity,  of  integrity,  of  indepen¬ 
dence,  which  will  even  guide  them  more  safely  through 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


189 


life  than  mere  prudence,  while  they  provide  an  inward 
fountain  of  pure  delight,  immeasurably  more  abundant 
than  all  the  outward  sources  of  precarious  and  perisha¬ 
ble  pleasure. 


Jeremy  Bentham. 

The  general  scheme  of  this  Dissertation  would  be  a 
sufficient  reason  for  omitting  the  name  of  a  living  writer. 
The  devoted  attachment  and  invincible  repugnance 
which  an  impartial  estimate  of  Mr  Bentham  has  to  en¬ 
counter  on  either  side,  are  a  strong  inducement  not  to 
deviate  from  that  scheme  in  his  case.  But  the  most 
brief  sketch  of  ethical  controversy  in  England  would  be 
imperfect  without  it ;  and  perhaps  the  utter  hopeless¬ 
ness  of  any  expedient  for  satisfying  his  followers,  or 
softening  his  opponents,  may  enable  a  writer  to  look 
steadily  and  solely  at  what  he  believes  to  be  the  dictates 
of  truth  and  justice.  He  who  has  spoken  of  former  phi¬ 
losophers  with  unreserved  freedom,  ought  perhaps  to 
subject  his  courage  and  honesty  to  the  severest  test  by 
an  attempt  to  characterize  such  a  contemporary.  Should 
the  very  few  who  are  at  once  enlightened  and  unbiassed 
be  of  opinion  that  his  firmness  and  equity  have  stood 
this  trial,  they  will  be  the  more  disposed  to  trust  his 
fairness  where  the  exercise  of  that  quality  is  more  easy. 

The  disciples  of  Mr  Bentham  are  more  like  the  hear¬ 
ers  of  an  Athenian  philosopher  than  the  pupils  of  a  mo¬ 
dern  professor,  or  the  cool  proselytes  of  a  modern  writer. 
They  are  in  general  men  of  competent  age,  of  superior  un¬ 
derstanding,  who  voluntarily  embrace  the  laborious  study 
of  useful  and  noble  sciences;  who  derive  their  opinions 
not  so  much  from  the  cold  perusal  of  his  writings,  as 
from  familiar  converse  with  a  master  from  whose  lips 
these  opinions  are  recommended  by  simplicity,  dis¬ 
interestedness,  originality,  and  vivacity;  aided  rather 
than  impeded  by  foibles  not  unamiable,  enforced  of  late 


190 


PROGRESS  OF 


by  the  growing  authority  of  years  and  of  fame,  and  at  all 
times  strengthened  by  that  undoubting  reliance  on  his 
own  judgment  which  mightily  increases  the  ascendant 
of  such  a  man  over  those  who  approach  him.  As  he 
and  they  deserve  the  credit  of  braving  vulgar  prejudices, 
so  they  must  be  content  to  incur  the  imputation  of  fall¬ 
ing  into  the  neighbouring  vices  of  seeking  distinction  by 
singularity ;  of  clinging  to  opinions  because  they  are  ob¬ 
noxious  ;  of  wantonly  wounding  the  most  respectable 
feelings  of  mankind  ;  of  regarding  an  immense  display  of 
method  and  nomenclature  as  a  sure  token  of  a  corres¬ 
ponding  increase  of  knowledge  ;  and  of  considering  them¬ 
selves  as  a  chosen  few,  whom  an  initiation  into  the  most 
secret  mysteries  of  philosophy  entitles  to  look  down  with 
pity,  if  not  contempt,  on  the  profane  multitude.  View¬ 
ed  with  aversion  or  dread  by  the  public,  they  become 
more  bound  to  each  other  and  to  their  master ;  while 
they  are  provoked  into  the  use  of  language  which 
more  and  more  exasperates  opposition  to  them.  A  her¬ 
mit  in  the  greatest  of  cities,  seeing  only  his  disciples, 
and  indignant  that  systems  of  government  and  law  which 
he  believes  to  be  perfect  are  disregarded  at  once  by  the 
many  and  the  powerful,  Mr  Bentham  has  at  length  been 
betrayed  into  the  most  unphilosophical  hypothesis, 
that  all  the  ruling  bodies  who  guide  the  community 
have  conspired  to  stifle  and  defeat  his  discoveries. 
He  is  too  little  acquainted  with  doubts  to  believe  the 
honest  doubts  of  others,  and  he  is  too  angry  to  make 
allowance  for  their  prejudices  and  habits.  He  has  em¬ 
braced  the  most  extreme  party  in  practical  politics ; 
manifesting  more  dislike  and  contempt  towards  those 
who  are  more  moderate  supporters  of  popular  princi¬ 
ples  than  towards  their  most  inflexible  opponents.  To 
the  unpopularity  of  his  philosophical  and  political  doc¬ 
trines  he  has  added  the  more  general  and  lasting  obloquy 
which  arises  from  an  unseemly  treatment  of  doctrines  and 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


191 


principles  which,  if  there  were  no  other  motives  for  re¬ 
verential  deference,  even  a  regard  to  the  feelings  of  the 
best  men  requires  to  be  approached  with  decorum  and 
respect. 

Fifty-three  years  have  passed  since  the  publication  of 
Mr  Bentham’s  first  work,  A  Fragment  on  Government , 
— a  considerable  octavo  volume,  employed  in  the  exam¬ 
ination  of  a  short  paragraph  of  Blackstone, — unmatched 
in  acute  hypercriticism,  but  conducted  with  a  severity 
which  leads  to  an  unjust  estimate  of  the  writer  criticised, 
till  the  like  experiment  be  repeated  on  other  writings. 
It  was  a  waste  of  extraordinary  power  to  employ  it  in 
pointing  out  flaws  and  patches  in  the  robe  occasionally 
stolen  from  the  philosophical  schools,  which  hung  loosely 
and  unbecomingly  on  the  elegant  commentator.  This 
volume,  and  especially  the  preface,  abounds  in  fine,  ori¬ 
ginal,  and  just  observation  ;  it  contains  the  germs  of  most 
of  his  subsequent  productions,  and  it  is  an  early  example 
of  that  disregard  for  the  method,  proportions,  and  occa¬ 
sion  of  a  writing  which,  with  all  common  readers,  deeply 
affects  its  power  of  interesting  or  instructing.  Two 
years  after,  he  published  a  most  excellent  tract  on  The 
Hard  Labour  Bill ,  which,  concurring  with  the  spirit 
excited  by  Howard’s  inquiries,  laid  the  foundation  of 
just  reasoning  on  Reformatory  Punishment.  The  Let¬ 
ters  on  Usury*  are  perhaps  the  best  specimen  of  the  ex¬ 
haustive  discussion  of  a  moral  or  political  question,  leav- 

*  They  were  addressed  to  Mr  George  Wilson,  who  retired  from  the  En¬ 
glish  bar  to  his  native  country,  and  died  at  Edinbui’gh  in  1816;  an  early 
friend  of  Mr  Bentham,  and  afterwards  an  intimate  friend  of  Lord  Ellenbo- 
rough.  Sir  Yicary  Gibbs,  and  of  all  the  most  eminent  of  his  professional 
contemporaries.  The  rectitude  of  judgment,  purity  of  heart,  elevation  of 
honour,  the  sternness  only  in  integrity,  the  scorn  of  baseness,  and  indul¬ 
gence  towards  weakness,  which  were  joined  in  him  with  a  gravity  exclu¬ 
sive  neither  of  feeling  nor  of  pleasantry,  contributed  still  more  than  his 
abilities  and  attainments  of  various  sorts,  to  a  moral  authority  with  his 
friends,  and  in  his  profession,  which  few  men  more  amply  possessed,  or 
more  usefully  exercised.  The  same  chai’acter,  somewhat  softened,  and 
the  same  influence,  distinguished  his  closest  friend,  the  late  Mr  Lens.  Both 
were  inflexible  and  incorruptible  friends  of  civil  and  religious  liberty,  and 


192 


PROGRESS  OF 


ing  no  objection,  however  feeble,  unanswered,  and  no 
difficulty,  however  small,  unexplained  ;  remarkable  also 
for  the  clearness  and  spirit  of  the  style,  for  the  full  ex¬ 
position  which  suits  them  to  all  intelligent  readers,  for 
the  tender  and  skilful  hand  with  which  prejudice  is 
touched,  and  for  the  urbanity  of  his  admirable  apology 
for  projectors,  addressed  to  Dr  Smith,  whose  temper 
and  manner  he  seems  for  a  time  to  have  imbibed.  The 
Introduction  to  the  Principles  of  Morals  and  Politics , 
printed  before  the  Letters ,  but  published  after  them, 
was  the  first  sketch  of  his  system,  and  is  still  the  only 
account  of  it  by  himself. 

The  great  merit  of  this  work,  and  of  his  other  writ¬ 
ings  in  relation  to  Jurisprudence  properly  so  called,  is 
not  within  our  present  scope.  To  the  Roman  jurists 
belongs  the  praise  of  having  allotted  a  separate  portion 
of  their  Digest  to  the  signification  of  the  words  of  most 
frequent  use  in  law  and  legal  discussion.*  Bentham 
not  only  first  perceived  and  taught  the  great  value 
of  an  introductory  section,  composed  of  definitions  of 
general  terms,  as  subservient  to  brevity  and  precision 
in  every  part  of  a  code,  but  he  also  discovered  the  un¬ 
speakable  importance  of  natural  arrangement  in  juris¬ 
prudence,  by  rendering  the  mere  place  of  a  proposed 
law  in  such  an  arrangement  a  short  and  easy  test  of 
the  fitness  of  the  proposal. f  But  here  he  does  not 


both  knew  how  to  reconcile  the  warmest  zeal  for  that  sacred  cause,  with  a 
charity  towards  their  opponents,  which  partisans,  often  more  violent  than 
steady,  treated  as  lukewarm.  The  present  writer  hopes  that  the  good-na¬ 
tured  reader  will  excuse  him  for  having  thus,  perhaps  unseasonably,  be¬ 
stowed  heartfelt  commendation  on  those  who  were  above  the  pursuit  of 
praise,  and  the  remembrance  of  whose  good  opinon  and  good-will  help  to 
support  him  under  a  deep  sense  of  faults  and  vices. 

*  Digest,  lib.  1.  tit.  16.  J)e  Verborum  Signijicatione. 

|  See  a  beautiful  article  on  Codification,  in  the  Edinburgh  Review,  vol. 
XXIX.  p.  217.  It  need  no  longer  be  concealed  that  it  was  contributed  by 
Sir  Samuel  llomilly.  The  steadiness  with  which  he  held  the  balance  in 
weighing  the  merits  of  his  friend  against  his  unfortunate  defects,  is  an  ex¬ 
ample  of  his  union  of  the  most  commanding  moral  principle  with  a  sensi¬ 
bility  so  warm,  that,  if  it  had  been  released  from  that  stern  authority,  it 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


193 


distinguish  between  the  value  of  arrangement  as  scaffold¬ 
ing,  and  the  inferior  convenience  of  its  being  the  very 
frame-work  of  the  structure.  Mr  Bentham,  indeed,  is 
much  more  remarkable  for  laying  down  desirable  rules 
for  the  determination  of  rights,  and  the  punishment  of 
wrongs,  in  general,  than  for  weighing  the  various  cir¬ 
cumstances  which  require  them  to  be  modified  in  differ¬ 
ent  countries  and  times  in  order  to  render  them  either 
more  useful,  more  easily  introduced,  more  generally 
respected,  or  more  certainly  executed.  The  art  of  legis¬ 
lation  consists  in  thus  applying  the  principles  of  juris¬ 
prudence  to  the  situation,  wants,  interests,  feelings, 
opinions,  and  habits,  of  each  distinct  community  at  any 
given  time.  It  bears  the  same  relation  to  jurisprudence 
which  the  mechanical  arts  bear  to  pure  Mathematics. 
Many  of  these  considerations  serve  to  show,  that  the 
sudden  establishment  of  new  codes  can  seldom  be  prac¬ 
ticable  or  effectual  for  their  purpose  ;  and  that  reforma¬ 
tions,  though  founded  on  the  principles  of  jurisprudence, 
ought  to  be  not  only  adapted  to  the  peculiar  interests  of 
a  people,  but  engrafted  on  their  previous  usages,  and 
brought  into  harmony  with  those  national  dispositions  on 
which  the  execution  of  laws  depends.*  The  Romans, 
under  Justinian,  adopted  at  least  the  true  principle,  if 
they  did  not  apply  it  with  sufficient  freedom  and  bold- 

would  not  so  long1  have  endured  the  coarseness  and  roughness  of  human 
concerns.  From  the  tenderness  of  his  feelings,  and  from  an  anger  never 
roused  but  by  cruelty  and  baseness,  as  much  as  from  his  genius  and  his  pure 
taste,  sprung  that  original  and  characteristic  eloquence,  which  was  the  hope 
of  the  afflicted  as  well  as  the  terror  of  the  oppressor.  If  his  oratory  had 
not  flowed  so  largely  from  this  moral  source,  which  years  do  not  dry  up, 
he  would  not  perhaps  have  been  the  only  example  of  an  orator  who,  after 
the  age  of  sixty,  daily  increased  in  polish,  in  vigour,  and  in  splendour. 

*  An  excellent  medium  between  those  who  absolutely  require  new  codes, 
and  those  who  obstinately  adhere  to  ancient  usages,  has  been  pointed  out 
by  M.  Meyer,  in  his  most  justly  celebrated  work,  Institutions  Judiciaires  des 
Principaux  Pays  de  l’ Europe,  tome  I.  Introduction,  p.  8,  9.  La  Haye  et 
Amst.  1819-23,  6  vols.  8vo. 

z 


194 


PROGRESS  OF 


ness.  They  considered  the  multitude  of  occasional  laws, 
and  the  still  greater  mass  of  usages,  opinions,  and  deter¬ 
minations,  as  the  materials  of  legislation,  not  precluding, 
but  demanding  a  systematic  arrangement  of  the  whole 
by  the  supreme  authority.  Had  the  arrangement  been 
more  scientific,  had  there  been  a  bolder  examination 
and  a  more  free  reform  of  many  particular  branches,  a 
model  would  have  been  offered  for  liberal  imitation  by 
modern  lawgivers.  It  cannot  be  denied,  without  injus¬ 
tice  and  ingratitude,  that  Mr  Bentham  has  done  more 
than  any  other  writer  to  rouse  the  spirit  of  juridical  re¬ 
formation,  which  is  now  gradually  examining  every  part 
of  law,  and,  when  further  progress  is  facilitated  by 
digesting  the  present  laws,  will  doubtless  proceed  to  the 
improvement  of  all.  Greater  praise  it  is  given  to  few 
to  earn.  It  ought  to  satisfy  Mr  Bentham,  for  the  dis¬ 
appointment  of  hopes  which  were  not  reasonable,  that 
Russia  should  receive  a  code  from  him,  or  that  North 
America  could  be  brought  to  renounce  the  variety  of 
her  laws  and  institutions,  on  the  single  authority  of  a 
foreign  philosopher,  whose  opinions  had  not  worked 
their  way  either  into  legislation  or  into  general  recep¬ 
tion  in  his  own  country.  It  ought  also  to  dispose  his 
followers  to  do  fuller  justice  to  the  Romillys  aud  Broug¬ 
hams,  without  whose  prudence  and  energy,  as  well  as 
reason  and  eloquence,  the  best  plans  of  reformation  must 
have  continued  a  dead  letter, — for  whose  sake  it  might 
have  been  fit  to  reconsider  the  obloquy  heaped  on  their 
profession,  and  to  show  more  general  indulgence  to  all 
those  whose  chief  offence  seems  to  consist  in  their  doubts 
whether  sudden  changes,  almost  always  imposed  by  vio¬ 
lence  on  a  community,  be  the  surest  road  to  lasting  im¬ 
provement. 

It  is  unfortunate  that  ethical  theory,  with  which  we 
are  now  chiefly  concerned,  is  not  the  province  in  which 
Mr  Bentham  has  reached  the  most  desirable  distinction. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


195 


It  may  be  remarked,  both  in  ancient  and  in  modern 
times,  that  whatever  modifications  prudent  followers 
may  introduce  into  the  system  of  an  innovator,  the  prin¬ 
ciples  of  the  master  continue  to  mould  the  habitual  dis¬ 
positions,  and  to  influence  the  practical  tendency  of  the 
school.  Mr  Bentham  preaches  the  principle  of  utility 
with  the  zeal  of  a  discoverer.  Occupied  more  in  reflec¬ 
tion  than  in  reading,  he  knew  not,  or  forgot,  how  often 
it  had  been  the  basis,  and  how  generally  an  essential  part, 
of  moral  systems.*  That  in  which  he  really  differs 
from  others,  is  in  the  necessity  which  he  teaches,  and 
the  example  which  he  sets,  of  constantly  bringing  that 
principle  before  us.  This  peculiarity  appears  to  us  to 
be  his  radical  error.  In  an  attempt,  of  which  the  con¬ 
stitution  of  human  nature  forbids  the  succes,  he  seems  to 
us  to  have  been  led  into  fundamental  errors  in  moral 
theory,  and  to  have  given  to  his  practical  doctrine  a 
dangerous  taint. 

The  confusion  of  moral  approbation  with  the  moral 
qualities  which  are  its  objects,  common  to  Mr  Bentham 
with  many  other  philosophers,  is  much  more  uniform 
and  prominent  in  him  than  in  most  others.  This  general 
error,  already  mentioned  at  the  opening  of  this  Disser¬ 
tation,  has  led  him  more  than  others  to  assume,  that  be¬ 
cause  the  principle  of  utility  forms  a  necessary  part  of 
every  moral  theory,  it  ought  therefore  to  be  the  chief 
motive  of  human  conduct.  Now  it  is  evident  that  this 
assumption,  rather  tacitly  than  avowedly  made,  is  wholly 
gratuitous.  No  practical  conclusion  can  be  deduced 
from  the  principle,  but  that  wre  ought  to  cultivate  those 
habitual  dispositions  which  are  the  most  effectual  mo¬ 
tives  to  useful  actions.  But  before  a  regard  to  our  own 
interest,  or  a  desire  to  promote  the  welfare  of  men  in 
general,  be  allowed  to  be  the  exclusive,  or  even  the 
chief  regulators  of  human  conduct,  it  must  be  shown 


*  See  Notes  and  Illustrations,  note  V. 


196 


PROGRESS  OF 


that  they  are  the  most  effectual  motives  to  such  useful 
actions.  It  is  demonstrated  by  experience  that  they 
are  not.  It  is  even  owned  by  the  most  ingenious  writers 
of  Mr  Bentham’s  school,  that  desires  which  are  pointed 
to  general  and  distant  objects,  although  they  have  their 
proper  place  and  their  due  value,  are  commonly  very 
faint  and  ineffectual  inducements  to  action.  A  theory 
founded  on  utility,  therefore,  requires  that  we  should 
cultivate,  as  excitements  to  practice,  those  other  habit¬ 
ual  dispositions  which  we  know  by  experience  to  be  ge¬ 
nerally  the  source  of  actions  beneficial  to  ourselves  and 
our  fellows  ;  habits  of  feeling  productive  of  habits  of  vir¬ 
tuous  conduct,  and  in  their  turn  strengthened  by  the 
re-action  of  these  last.  What  is  the  result  of  experi¬ 
ence  on  the  choice  of  the  objects  of  moral  culture?  Be¬ 
yond  all  dispute,  that  we  should  labour  to  attain  that 
state  of  mind  in  which  all  the  social  affections  are  felt 
with  the  utmost  warmth,  giving  birth  to  more  compre¬ 
hensive  benevolence,  but  not  supplanted  by  it;  when 
the  moral  sentiments  most  strongly  approve  what  is  right 
and  good,  without  being  perplexed  by  a  calculation  of 
consequences,  though  not  incapable  of  being  gradually 
rectified  by  reason,  whenever  they  are  decisively  prov¬ 
ed  by  experience  not  to  correspond  in  some  of  their 
parts  to  the  universal  and  perpetual  effects  of  conduct. 
It  is  a  false  representation  of  human  nature  to  affirm  that 
‘‘courage”  is  only  “prudence.”*  They  coincide  in 
their  effects,  and  it  is  always  prudent  to  be  courageous. 
But  a  man  who  fights  because  he  thinks  it  more  hazar¬ 
dous  to  yield,  is  not  brave.  He  does  not  become  brave 


*  Mr  Mill’s  Analysis  of  the  Human  Mind,  vol,  II.  p.  237.  It  would  be 
unjust  not  to  say  that  this  book,  partly  perhaps  from  a  larger  adoption  of 
the  principles  of  Hartley,  holds  out  fairer  opportunities  of  negotiation  with 
natural  feelings  and  the  doctrines  of  former  philosophers,  than  any  other 
production  of  the  same  school.  But  this  very  assertion  about  courage 
clearly  shows  at  least  a  forgetfulness  that  courage,  even  if  it  were  the  off¬ 
spring  of  prudence,  would  not  for  that  reason  be  a  species  of  it. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


197 


till  he  feels  cowardice  to  be  base  and  painful,  and  till  he 
is  no  longer  in  need  of  any  aid  from  prudence.  Even  if 
it  were  the  interest  of  every  man  to  be  bold,  it  is  clear 
that  so  cold  a  consideration  cannot  prevail  over  the  fear 
of  danger.  Where  it  seems  to  do  so,  it  must  be  by  the 
unseen  power  either  of  the  fear  of  shame,  or  of  some 
other  powerful  passion,  to  which  it  lends  its  name.  It 
was  long  ago  with  striking  justice  observed  by  Aristotle, 
that  he  who  abstains  from  present  gratification,  under  a 
distinct  apprehension  of  its  painful  consequences,  is  only 
prudent ,  and  that  he  must  acquire  a  disrelish  for  excess 
on  its  own  account,  before  he  deserves  the  name  of  a 
temperate  man.  It  is  only  when  the  means  are  firmly 
and  unalterably  converted  into  ends,  that  the  process  of 
forming  the  mind  is  completed.  Courage  may  then  seek, 
instead  of  avoiding  danger.  Temperance  may  prefer 
abstemiousness  to  indulgence.  Prudence  itself  may 
choose  an  orderly  government  of  conduct,  according  to 
certain  rules,  without  regard  to  the  degree  in  which  it 
promotes  welfare.  Benevolence  must  desire  the  happi¬ 
ness  of  others,  to  the  exclusion  of  the  consideration  how 
far  it  is  connected  with  that  of  the  benevolent  agent ; 
and  those  alone  can  be  accounted  just  who  obey  the  dic¬ 
tates  of  justice  from  having  thoroughly  learned  an  ha¬ 
bitual  veneration  for  its  strict  rules  and  for  its  larger 
precepts.  In  that  complete  state  the  mind  possesses  no 
power  of  dissolving  the  combinations  of  thought  and  feel¬ 
ing  which  impel  it  to  action.  Nothing  in  this  argument 
turns  on  the  difference  between  implanted  and  acquired 
principles.  As  no  man  can  cease,  by  any  act  of  his,  to 
see  distance,  though  the  power  of  seeing  it  be  univer¬ 
sally  acknowledged  to  be  an  acquisition,  so  no  man  has 
the  power  to  extinguish  the  affections  and  the  moral  sen¬ 
timents,  however  much  they  may  be  thought  to  be  ac¬ 
quired,  any  more  than  that  of  eradicating  the  bodily  ap¬ 
petites.  The  best  writers  of  Mr  Bentham’s  school  over- 


198 


PROGRESS  OF 


look  the  indissolubility  of  these  associations,  and  appear 
not  to  bear  in  mind  that  their  strength  and  rapid  action 
constitute  the  perfect  state  of  a  moral  agent. 

The  pursuit  of  our  own  general  welfare,  or  of  that  of 
mankind  at  large,  though  from  their  vagueness  and  cold¬ 
ness  they  are  unfit  habitual  motives  and  unsafe  ordinary 
guides  of  conduct,  yet  perform  functions  of  essential  im¬ 
portance  in  the  moral  system.  The  former,  which  we 
call  self-love,  preserves  the  balance  of  all  the  active 
principles  which  regard  ourselves  ultimately,  arid  con¬ 
tributes  to  subject  them  to  the  authority  of  the  moral 
principles.*  The  latter,  which  is  general  benevolence, 
regulates  in  like  manner  the  equipoise  of  the  narrower 
affections ;  quickens  the  languid,  and  checks  the  en¬ 
croaching  ;  borrows  strength  from  pity,  and  even  from 
indignation  ;  receives  some  compensation,  as  it  enlarges, 
in  the  addition  of  beauty  and  grandeur,  for  the  weak¬ 
ness  which  arises  from  dispersion  ;  enables  us  to  look  on 
all  men  as  brethren,  and  overflows  on  every  sentient  be¬ 
ing.  The  general  interest  of  mankind,  in  truth,  almost 
solely  affects  us  through  the  affections  of  benevolence 
and  sympathy  ;  for  the  coincidence  of  general  with  in¬ 
dividual  interest,  even  where  it  is  certain,  is  too  dimly 
seen  to  produce  any  emotion  which  can  impel  to,  or  re¬ 
strain  from  action.  As  a  general  truth,  its  value  con¬ 
sists  in  its  completing  the  triumph  of  morality,  by  de¬ 
monstrating  the  absolute  impossibility  of  forming  any 
theory  of  human  nature  which  does  not  preserve  the 
superiority  of  virtue  over  vice ;  a  great,  though  not  a 
directly  practical  advantage. 

The  followers  of  Mr  Bentham  have  carried  to  an  un¬ 
usual  extent  the  prevalent  fault  of  the  more  modern  ad¬ 
vocates  of  utility,  who  have  dwelt  so  exclusively  on  the 
outward  advantages  of  virtue  as  to  have  lost  sight  of  the 


*  See  Notes  and  Illustrations,  note  W. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


199 


delight  which  is  a  part  of  virtuous  feeling,  and  of  the 
beneficial  influence  of  good  actions  upon  the  frame  of 
the  mind.  “  Benevolence  towards  others,”  says  Mr 
Mill,  u  produces  a  return  of  benevolence  from  them.”* 
The  fact  is  true,  and  ought  to  be  stated.  But  how  un¬ 
important  is  it  in  comparison  with  that  which  is  passed 
over  in  silence,  the  pleasure  of  the  affection  itself, 
which,  if  it  could  become  lasting  and  intense,  would 
convert  the  heart  into  a  heaven  !  No  one  who  has  ever 
felt  kindness,  if  he  could  accurately  recall  his  feelings, 
could  hesitate  about  their  infinite  superiority.  The 
cause  of  the  general  neglect  of  this  consideration  is,  that 
it  is  only  when  a  gratification  is  something  distinct  from 
a  state  of  mind,  that  we  can  easily  learn  to  consider  it  as 
a  pleasure.  Hence  the  great  error  respecting  the  affec¬ 
tions,  where  the  inherent  delight  is  not  duly  estimated, 
on  account  of  that  very  peculiarity  of  being  a  part  of  a 
state  of  mind,  which  renders  it  unspeakably  more  valua¬ 
ble  as  independent  of  every  thing  without.  The  social 
affections  are  the  only  principles  of  human  nature  which 
have  no  direct  pains.  To  have  any  of  these  desires  is 
to  be  in  a  state  of  happiness.  The  malevolent  passions 
have  properly  no  pleasures  ;  for  that  attainment  of  their 
purpose  which  is  improperly  so  called,  consists  only  in 
healing  or  assuaging  the  torture  which  envy,  jealousy, 
and  malice,  inflict  on  the  malignant  mind.  It  might  with 
as  much  propriety  be  said  that  the  toothache  and  the 
stone  have  pleasures,  because  their  removal  is  followed 
by  an  agreeable  feeling.  These  bodily  disorders,  in¬ 
deed,  are  often  cured  by  the  process  which  removes  the 
sufferings ;  but  the  mental  distempers  of  envy  and  re¬ 
venge  are  nourished  by  every  act  of  odious  indulgence 
which  for  a  moment  suspends  their  pain. 

The  same  observation  is  applicable  to  every  virtuous 


*  Analysis  of  the  Human  Mind ,  vol.  II. 


200 


PROGRESS  OE 


disposition,  though  not  so  obviously  as  to  the  benevolent 
affections.  That  a  brave  man  is,  on  the  whole,  far  less 
exposed  to  danger  than  a  coward,  is  not  the  chief  advan¬ 
tage  of  a  courageous  temper.  Great  dangers  are  rare; 
but  the  constant  absence  of  such  painful  and  mortifying 
sensations  as  those  of  fear,  and  the  steady  consciousness 
of  superiority  to  what  subdues  ordinary  men,  are  a  per¬ 
petual  source  of  inward  enjoyment.  No  man  who  has 
ever  been  visited  by  “a  gleam  of  magnanimity  can  place 
any  outward  advantage  of  fortitude  in  comparison  with 
the  feeling  of  being  always  able  fearlessly  to  defend  a 
righteous  cause. *  Even  Humility ,  in  spite  of  first  ap¬ 
pearances,  is  a  remarkable  example.  It  has  of  late  been 
unwarrantably  used  to  signify  that  painful  consciousness 
of  inferiority  which  is  the  first  stage  of  envy.f  It  is  a 
term  consecrated  in  Christian  ethics  to  denote  that  dispo¬ 
sition  which,  by  inclining  towards  a  modest  estimate  of 
our  qualities,  corrects  the  prevalent  tendency  of  human 
nature  to  overvalue  our  merits  and  to  overrate  our  claims. 
What  can  be  a  less  doubtful  or  a  much  more  considera¬ 
ble  blessing  than  this  constant  sedative,  which  soothes 
and  composes  the  irritable  passions  of  vanity  and  pride? 
What  is  more  conducive  to  lasting  peace  of  mind  than 
the  consciousness  of  proficiency  in  that  most  delicate  spe¬ 
cies  of  equity  which,  in  the  secret  tribunal  of  conscience, 
labours  to  be  impartial  in  the  comparison  of  ourselves 
with  others?  What  can  so  perfectly  assure  us  of  the  pu¬ 
rity  of  our  moral  sense,  as  the  habit  of  contemplating,  not 
that  excellence  which  we  have  reached,  but  that  which 


*  According1  to  Cicero's  definition  of  fortitude,  “  Virtus  pugnans  pro 
sequitate .”  The  remains  of  the  original  sense  of  Virtus,  Manhood,  give  a 
beauty  and  force  to  these  expressions,  which  cannot  be  preserved  in  our 
language.  The  Greek  A^std,  and  the  German  Tugend,  originally  denoted 
Strength,  afterwards  Courage ,  and  at  last  Virtue.  But  the  happy  derivation 
of  Virtus  from  Vir  gives  an  energy  to  the  phrase  of  Cicero,  which  illustrates 
the  use  of  etymology  in  the  hands  of  a  skilful  writer. 

|  Mr  Mill’s  Analysis  of  the  Human  Mind,  vol.  II.  p.  222. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


201 


is  still  to  be  pursued  of  not  considering  how  far  we 
may  outrun  others,  but  how  far  we  are  from  the  goal  ? 

Virtue  has  often  outward  advantages,  and  always  in¬ 
ward  delights ;  but  the  second,  though  constant,  strong, 
inaccessible,  and  inviolable,  are  not  easily  considered  by 
the  common  observer  as  apart  from  the  virtue  with  which 
they  are  blended.  They  are  so  subtile  and  evanescent 
as  to  escape  the  distinct  contemplation  of  all  but  the  very 
few  who  meditate  on  the  acts  of  mind.  The  outward 
advantages,  on  the  other  hand,  cold,  uncertain,  depen¬ 
dent,  and  precarious  as  they  are,  yet  stand  out  to  the 
sense  and  to  the  memory,  may  be  handled  and  counted, 
and  are  perfectly  on  a  level  with  the  general  apprehen¬ 
sion.  Hence  they  have  become  the  almost  exclusive 
theme  of  all  moralists  who  profess  to  follow  reason.  There 
is  room  for  suspecting  that  a  very  general  illusion  pre¬ 
vails  on  this  subject.  Probably  the  smallest  part  of  the 
pleasure  of  virtue,  because  it  is  the  most  palpable,  has 
become  the  sign  and  mental  representative  of  the  whole. 
The  outward  and  visible  sign  suggests  insensibly  the  in¬ 
ward  and  mental  delight.  Those  who  display  the  ex¬ 
ternal  benefits  of  magnanimity  and  kindness,  would  speak 
with  far  less  fervour,  and  perhaps  less  confidence,  if 
their  feelings  were  not  unconsciously  affected  by  the  men¬ 
tal  state  which  they  overlook  in  their  statements,  though 
they  feel  some  part  of  it  when  they  write  or  speak  on  it. 
When  they  speak  of  what  is  without ,  they  feel  what  was 
within ,  and  their  words  excite  the  same  feeling  in  others. 
Is  it  not  probable  that  much  of  our  love  of  praise  may  be 
thus  ascribed  to  humane  and  sociable  pleasure  in  the 
sympathy  of  others  with  us  ?  Praise  is  the  symbol  which 
represents  sympathy,  and  which  the  mind  insensibly  sub¬ 
stitutes  for  it  in  recollection  and  in  language.  Does  not 
the  desire  of  posthumous  fame,  in  like  manner,  manifest 

*  For  a  description  of  vanity,  by  a  great  orator,  see  the  Rev.  R.  Hall’s 
Sermon  on  Modern  Infidelity. 

2  A 


202 


PROGRESS  OF 


an  ambition  for  the  fellow-feeling  of  our  race,  when  it  is 
perfectly  unproductive  of  any  advantage  to  ourselves? 
In  this  point  of  view,  it  may  be  considered  as  the  passion 
of  which  the  very  existence  proves  the  mighty  power  of 
disinterested  desire.  Every  other  pleasure  from  sympa¬ 
thy  is  confined  to  the  men  who  are  now  alive.  The  love 
of  fame  alone  seeks  the  sympathy  of  unborn  generations, 
and  stretches  the  chain  which  binds  the  race  of  man  to¬ 
gether,  to  an  extent  to  which  hope  sets  no  bounds.  There 
is  a  noble,  even  if  unconscious,  union  of  morality  with 
genius  in  the  mind  of  him  who  sympathizes  with  the  mas¬ 
ters  who  lived  twenty  centuries  before  him,  in  order  that 
he  may  learn  to  command  the  sympathies  of  the  count¬ 
less  generations  who  are  to  come. 

In  the  most  familiar,  as  well  as  in  the  highest  instan¬ 
ces,  it  would  seem,  that  the  inmost  thoughts  and  senti¬ 
ments  of  men  are  more  pure  than  their  language.  Those 
who  speak  of  “  a  regard  to  character,”  if  they  be  serious, 
generally  infuse  into  that  word,  unawares,  a  large  portion 
of  that  sense  in  which  it  denotes  the  frame  of  the  mind. 
Those  who  speak  of  “honour”  very  often  mean  a  more 
refined  and  delicate  sort  of  conscience,  which  ought  to 
render  the  more  educated  classes  of  society  alive  to  such 
smaller  wrongs  as  the  laborious  and  the  ignorant  can 
scarcely  feel.  What  heart  does  not  warm  at  the  noble  ex¬ 
planation  of  the  ancient  poet:  “  Who  is  pleased  by  false 
honour,  or  frightened  by  lying  infamy,  but  he  who  is  false 
and  depraved!”  Every  uncorrupted  mind  feels  unmer¬ 
ited  pain  as  a  bitter  reproach,  and  regards  a  conscious¬ 
ness  of  demerit  as  a  drop  of  poison  in  the  cup  of  honour. 
How  different  is  the  applause  which  truly  delights  us  all, 
a  proof  that  the  consciences  of  others  are  in  harmony 
with  our  own  !  “  What,7’  says  Cicero,  “  is  glory  but  the 
concurring  praise  of  the  good,  the  unbought  approbation 
of  those  who  judge  aright  of  excellent  virtue !”  A  far 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


203 


greater  than  Cicero  rises  from  the  purest  praise  of  man, 
to  more  sublime  contemplations. 

Fame  Is  no  plant  that  grows  on  mortal  soil, 

But  lives  and  spreads  aloft,  by  those  pure  eyes 

And  perfect  witness  of  all-judging  Jove. 

Those  who  have  most  inculcated  the  doctrine  of  utility 
have  given  another  notable  example  of  the  very  vulgar 
prejudice  which  treats  the  unseen  as  insignificant.  Tuc¬ 
ker  is  the  only  one  of  them  who  occasionally  considers 
that  most  important  effect  of  human  conduct  which  con¬ 
sists  in  its  action  on  the  frame  of  the  mind,  by  fitting  its 
faculties  and  sensibilities  for  their  appointed  purpose. 
A  razor  or  a  penknife  would  well  enough  cut  cloth  or 
meat ;  but  if  they  were  often  so  used,  they  would  be  en¬ 
tirely  spoiled.  The  same  sort  of  observation  is  much 
more  strongly  applicable  to  habitual  dispositions,  which, 
if  they  be  spoiled,  we  have  no  certain  means  of  replacing 
or  mending.  Whatever  act,  therefore,  discomposes  the 
moral  machinery  of  mind,  is  more  injurious  to  the  wel¬ 
fare  of  the  agent  than  most  disasters  from  without  can  be ; 
for  the  latter  are  commonly  limited  and  temporary;  the 
evil  of  the  former  spreads  through  the  whole  of  life. 
Health  of  mind,  as  well  as  of  body,  is  not  only  produc¬ 
tive  in  itself  of  a  greater  sum  of  enjoyment  than  arises 
from  other  sources,  but  is  the  only  condition  of  our  frame 
in  which  we  are  capable  of  receiving  pleasure  from  with¬ 
out.  Hence  it  appears  how  incredibly  absurd  it  is  to 
prefer,  on  grounds  of  calculation,  a  present  interest  to 
the  preservation  of  those  mental  habits  on  which  our 
wellbeing  depends.  When  they  are  most  moral,  they 
may  often  prevent  us  from  obtaining  advantages.  It 
would  be  as  absurd  to  desire  to  lower  them  for  that  rea¬ 
son,  as  it  would  be  to  weaken  the  body,  lest  its  strength 
should  render  it  more  liable  to  contagious  disorders  of 
rare  occurrence. 


204 


progress  or 


It  is,  on  the  other  hand,  impossible  to  combine  the 
benefit  of  the  general  habit  with  the  advantages  of  occa¬ 
sional  deviation ;  for  every  such  deviation  either  pro¬ 
duces  remorse,  or  weakens  the  habit,  and  prepares  the 
way  for  its  gradual  destruction.  He  who  obtains  a  for¬ 
tune  by  the  undetected  forgery  of  a  will,  may  indeed  be 
honest  in  his  other  acts;  but  if  he  had  such  a  scorn  of 
fraud  before  as  he  must  himself  allow  to  be  generally  use¬ 
ful,  he  must  suffer  a  severe  punishment  from  contrition  ; 
and  he  will  be  haunted  with  the  fears  of  one  who  has 
lost  his  own  security  for  his  good  conduct.  In  all  cases, 
if  they  be  well  examined,  his  loss  by  the  distemper  of  his 
mental  frame  will  outweigh  the  profits  of  his  vice. 

By  repeating  the  like  observation  on  similar  occasions, 
it  will  be  manifest  that  the  infirmity  of  recollection,  ag¬ 
gravated  by  the  defects  of  language,  gives  an  appearance 
of  more  selfishness  to  man  than  truly  belongs  to  his  nature  ; 
and  that  the  effect  of  active  agents  upon  the  habitual 
state  of  mind,  one  of  the  considerations  to  which  the 
epithet  “  sentimental”  has  of  late  been  applied  in  deri¬ 
sion,  is  really  among  the  most  serious  and  reasonable  ob¬ 
jects  of  moral  philosophy.  When  the  internal  pleasures 
and  pains  which  accompany  good  and  bad  feelings,  or 
rather  form  a  part  of  them,  and  the  internal  advantages 
and  disadvantages  which  follow  good  and  bad  actions, 
are  sufficiently  considered,  the  comparative  importance 
of  outward  consequences  will  be  more  and  more  nar¬ 
rowed  ;  so  that  the  Stoical  philosopher  may  be  thought 
almost  excusable  for  rejecting  it  altogether,  were  it  not 
an  indispensably  necessary  consideration  for  those  in  whom 
right  habits  of  feeling  are  not  sufficiently  strong.  They 
alone  are  happy,  or  even  truly  virtuous,  who  have  little 
need  of  it. 

The  later  moralists  who  adopt  the  principle  of  utility, 
have  so  misplaced  it,  that  in  their  hands  it  has  as  greata 
tendency  as  any  theoretical  error  can  have,  to  lessen  the 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY . 


205 


intrinsic  pleasure  of  virtue,  and  to  unfit  our  habitual  feel¬ 
ings  for  being  the  most  effectual  inducements  to  good 
conduct.  This  is  the  natural  tendency  of  a  discipline 
which  brings  utility  too  closely  and  frequently  into  con¬ 
tact  with  action.  By  this  habit,  in  its  best  state,  an  es¬ 
sentially  weaker  motive  is  gradually  substituted  for  others 
which  must  always  be  of  more  force.  The  frequent  ap¬ 
peal  to  utility  as  the  standard  of  action  tends  to  introduce 
an  uncertainty  with  respect  to  the  conduct  of  other  men, 
which  would  render  all  intercourse  insupportable.  It 
affords  also  so  fair  a  disguise  for  selfish  and  malignant 
passions,  as  often  to  hide  their  nature  from  him  who  is 
their  prey.  Some  taint  of  these  mean  and  evil  princi¬ 
ples  will  at  least  creep  in,  and  by  their  venom  give  an 
animation  not  its  own  to  the  cold  desire  of  utility.  The 
moralists  who  take  an  active  part  in  those  affairs  which 
often  call  out  unamiable  passions,  ought  to  guard  with 
peculiar  watchfulness  against  self-delusions.  The  sin  that 
must  most  easily  beset  them,  is  that  of  sliding  from  gen¬ 
eral  to  particular  consequences, — that  of  trying  single 
actions,  instead  of  dispositions,  habits,  and  rules,  by  the 
standard  of  utility, — that  of  authorising  too  great  a  lati¬ 
tude  for  discretion  and  policy  in  moral  conduct, — that  of 
readily  allowing  exceptions  to  the  most  important  rules, 
— that  of  too  lenient  a  censure  of  the  use  of  doubtful 
means  when  the  end  seems  to  them  good, — and  that  of 
believing  unphilosophically,  as  well  as  dangerously,  that 
there  can  be  any  measure  or  scheme  so  useful  to  the 
world  as  the  existence  of  men  who  would  not  do  a  base 
thing  for  any  public  advantage.  It  was  said  of  Andrew 
Fletcher,  il  he  would  lose  his  life  to  serve  his  country, 
but  would  not  do  a  base  thing  to  save  it.”  Let  those 
preachers  of  utility  who  suppose  that  such  a  man  sacri¬ 
fices  ends  to  means ,  consider  whether  the  scorn  of  base¬ 
ness  be  not  akin  to  the  contempt  of  danger,  and  whether 
a  nation  composed  of  such  men  would  not  be  invincible. 


206 


PROGRESS  OF 


But  theoretical  principles  are  counteracted  by  a  thousand 
causes,  which  confine  their  mischief  as  well  as  circum¬ 
scribe  their  benefits.  Men  are  never  so  good  or  so  bad 
as  their  opinions.  All  that  can  be  with  reason  appre¬ 
hended  is,  that  they  may  always  produce  some  part  of 
their  natural  evil,  and  that  the  mischief  will  be  greatest 
among  the  many  who  seek  excuses  for  these  passions. 
Aristippus  found  in  the  Socratic  representation  of  the 
union  of  virtue  and  happiness  a  pretext  for  sensuality ; 
and  many  Epicureans  became  voluptuaries  in  spite  of 
the  example  of  their  master ;  easily  dropping  by  degrees 
the  limitations  by  which  he  guarded  his  doctrines.  In 
proportion  as  a  man  accustoms  himself  to  be  influenced 
by  the  utility  of  particular  acts,  without  regard  to  rules, 
he  approaches  to  the  casuistry  of  the  Jesuits,  and  to  the 
practical  maxims  of  Caesar  Borgia. 

Injury  on  this  as  on  other  occasions  has  been  suffered 
by  Ethics ,  from  its  close  affinity  to  Jurisprudence.  The 
true  and  eminent  merit  of  Mr  Bentham  is  that  of  a  re¬ 
former  of  jurisprudence.  He  is  only  a  moralist  with  a 
view  to  being  a  jurist ;  and  he  sometimes  becomes  for  a 
few  hurried  moments  a  metaphysician  with  a  view  to 
laying  the  foundation  of  both  the  moral  sciences.  Both 
he  and  his  followers  have  treated  ethics  too  juridically. 
They  do  not  seem  to  be  aware,  or  at  least  they  do  not 
bear  constantly  in  mind,  that  there  is  an  essential  differ¬ 
ence  in  the  subjects  of  these  two  sciences. 

The  object  of  law  is  the  prevention  of  actions  injuri¬ 
ous  to  the  community.  It  considers  the  dispositions  from 
which  they  flow  only  indirectly ,  to  ascertain  the  like¬ 
lihood  of  their  recurrence,  and  thus  to  determine  the 
necessity  and  the  means  of  preventing  them.  The  di¬ 
rect  object  of  ethics  is  only  mental  disposition.  It  con¬ 
siders  actions  indirectly  as  the  signs  by  which  such  dis¬ 
positions  are  manifested.  If  it  were  possible  for  the 
mere  moralist  to  see  that  a  moral  and  amiable  temper 


1 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


207 


was  the  mental  source  of  a  bad  action,  he  could  not 
cease  to  approve  and  love  the  temper,  as  we  sometimes 
presume  to  suppose  may  be  true  of  the  judgments  of 
the  Searcher  of  Hearts.  Religion  necessarily  coincides 
with  morality  in  this  respect ;  and  it  is  the  peculiar  dis¬ 
tinction  of  Christianity  that  it  places  the  seat  of  virtue 
in  the  heart.  Law  and  ethics  are  necessarily  so  much 
blended,  that  in  many  intricate  combinations  the  dis¬ 
tinction  becomes  obscure.  But  in  all  strong  cases  the 
difference  is  evident.  Thus,  law  punishes  the  most  sin¬ 
cerely  repentant;  but  wherever  the  soul  of  the  penitent 
can  be  thought  to  be  thoroughly  purified,  religion  and 
morality  receive  him  with  open  arms. 

It  is  needless,  after  these  remarks,  to  observe,  that 
those  whose  habitual  contemplation  is  directed  to  the 
rules  of  action,  are  likely  to  underrate  the  importance  of 
feeling  and  disposition;  an  error  of  very  unfortunate  con¬ 
sequences,  since  the  far  greater  part  of  human  actions 
flow  from  these  neglected  sources  ;  while  the  law  inter¬ 
poses  only  in  cases  which  may  be  called  exceptions,  which 
are  now  rare,  and  ought  to  be  less  frequent. 

The  coincidence  of  Mr  Bentham’s  school  with  the  an¬ 
cient  Epicureans  in  the  disregard  of  the  pleasures  of  taste 
and  of  the  arts  dependent  on  imagination,  is  a  proof  both 
of  the  inevitable  adherence  of  much  of  the  popular  sense 
of  the  words  ‘‘interest”  and  “pleasure,”  to  the  same 
words  in  their  philosophical  acceptation,  and  of  the  per¬ 
nicious  influence  of  narrowing  “  utility”  to  mere  visible 
and  tangible  objects,  to  the  exclusion  of  those  which  form 
the  larger  part  of  human  enjoyment. 

The  mechanical  philosophers  who,  under  Descartes 
and  Gassendi,  began  to  reform  Physics  in  the  seventeenth 
century,  attempted  to  explain  all  the  appearances  of  na¬ 
ture  by  an  immediate  reference  to  the  figure  of  particles 
of  matter  impelling  each  other  in  various  directions,  and 
with  unequal  force,  but  in  all  other  points  alike.  The 


20S 


PROGRESS  OF 


communication  of  motion  by  impulse  they  conceived  to  be 
perfectly  simple  and  intelligible.  It  never  occurred  to 
them,  that  the  movement  of  one  ball  when  another  is 
driven  against  it,  is  a  fact  of  which  no  explanation  can  be 
given  which  will  amount  to  more  than  a  statement  of  its 
constant  occurrence.  That  no  body  can  act  where  it  is 
not,  appeared  to  them  as  self-evident  as  that  the  whole 
is  equal  to  all  the  parts.  By  this  axiom  they  understood 
that  no  body  moves  another  without  touching  it.  They 
did  not  perceive,  that  it  was  only  self-evident  where  it 
means  that  no  body  can  act  where  it  has  not  the  power 
of  acting  ;  and  that  if  it  be  understood  more  largely,  it 
is  a  mere  assumption  of  the  proposition  on  which  their 
whole  system  rested.  Sir  Isaac  Newton  reformed  Phy¬ 
sics,  not  by  simplfying  that  science,  but  by  rendering  it 
much  more  complicated.  He  introduced  into  it  the  force 
of  attraction,  of  which  he  ascertained  many  laws,  but 
which  even  he  did  not  dare  to  represent  as  being  as  in¬ 
telligible  and  as  conceivably  ultimate  as  impulsion  itself. 
It  was  necessary  for  Laplace  to  introduce  intermediate 
laws,  and  to  calculate  disturbing  forces,  before  the  phe¬ 
nomena  of  the  heavenly  bodies  could  be  reconciled  even 
to  Newton’s  more  complex  theory.  In  the  present  state 
of  physical  and  chemical  knowledge,  a  man  who  should 
attempt  to  refer  all  the  immense  variety  of  facts  to  the 
simple  impulse  of  the  Cartesians,  would  have  no  chance 
of  serious  confutation.  The  number  of  laws  augments 
with  the  progress  of  knowledge.  The  speculations  of 
the  followers  of  Mr  Bentham  are  not  unlike  the  unsuc¬ 
cessful  attempt  of  the  Cartesians.  Mr  Mill,  for  exam¬ 
ple,  derives  the  whole  theory  of  Government*  from  the 
single  fact,  that  every  man  pursues  his  interest  when  he 
knows  it;  which  he  assumes  to  be  a  sort  of  self-evident 
practical  principle,  if  such  a  phrase  be  not  contradictory. 

*  Essay  on  Government,  originally  printed  in  the  Supplement  to  the 
fourth,  fifth,  and  sixth  editions  of  the  Encyclopaedia  Britannica. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


209 


That  a  man’s  pursuing  the  interest  of  another,  or  in¬ 
deed  any  other  object  in  nature,  is  just  as  conceivable 
as  that  he  should  pursue  his  own  interest,  is  a  proposi¬ 
tion  which  seems  never  to  have  occurred  to  this  acute 
and  ingenious  writer.  Nothing,  however,  can  be  more 
certain  than  its  truth,  if  the  term  “  interest”  be  employ¬ 
ed  in  its  proper  sense  of  general  wellbeing,  which  is  the 
only  acceptation  in  which  it  can  serve  the  purpose  of 
his  arguments.  If,  indeed,  the  term  be  employed  to 
denote  the  gratification  of  a  predominant  desire,  his  pro¬ 
position  is  self-evident,  but  wholly  unserviceable  in  his 
argument ;  for  it  is  clear  that  individuals  and  multitudes 
often  desire  what  they  know  to  be  most  inconsistent  witli 
their  general  welfare.  A  nation,  as  much  as  an  indi¬ 
vidual,  and  sometimes  more,  may  not  only  mistake  its  in¬ 
terest,  but,  perceiving  it  clearly,  may  prefer  the  grati¬ 
fication  of  a  strong  passion  to  it.*  The  whole  fabric  of 
his  political  reasoning  seems  to  be  overthrown  by’ this 
single  observation  ;  and  instead  of  attempting  to  explain 
the  immense  variety  of  political  facts  by  the  simple 
principle  of  a  contest  of  interests,  we  are  reduced  to  the 
necessity  of  once  more  referring  them  to  that  variety  of 
passions,  habits,  opinions,  and  prejudices,  which  we  dis¬ 
cover  only  by  experience.  Mr  Mill’s  Essay  on  Educa¬ 
tion f  affords  another  example  of  the  inconvenience  of 
leaping  at  once  from  the  most  general  laws,  to  a  multi¬ 
plicity  of  minute  appearances.  Having  assumed,  or  at 
least  inferred  from  insufficient  premises,  that  the  intel¬ 
lectual  and  moral  character  is  entirely  formed  by  cir¬ 
cumstances,  he  proceeds,  in  the  latter  part  of  the  essay, 
as  if  it  were  a  necessary  consequence  of  that  doctrine, 
that  we  might  easily  acquire  the  power  of  combining 
and  directing  circumstances  in  such  a  manner  as  to  pro- 


*  The  same  mode  of  reasoning  has  been  adopted  by  the  writer  of  a  late 
criticism  on  Mr  Minn’s  Essay.  See  Edinburgh  Review,  No.  97,  March  1829. 
t  In  the  Supplement  to  the  Encyclopedia  Britannica. 

2  B 


210 


PROGRESS  OF 


duce  the  best  possible  character.  Without  disputing 
for  the  present  the  theoretical  proposition,  let  us  con¬ 
sider  what  would  be  the  reasonableness  of  similar  expec¬ 
tations  in  a  more  easily  intelligible  case.  The  general 
theory  of  the  winds  is  pretty  well  understood;  we  know 
that  they  proceed  from  the  rushing  of  air  from  those 
portions  of  the  atmosphere  which  are  more  condensed, 
into  those  which  are  more  rarefied ;  but  how  great  a 
chasm  is  there  between  that  simple  law  and  the  great 
variety  of  facts  which  experience  teaches  us  respecting 
winds !  The  constant  winds  between  the  tropics  are 
large  and  regular  enough  to  be  in  some  measure  capa¬ 
ble  of  explanation ;  but  who  can  tell  why,  in  variable 
climates,  the  wind  blows  to-day  from  the  east,  to-morrow 
from  the  west?  Who  can  foretell  what  its  shiftingsand 
variations  are  to  be  ?  Who  can  account  for  a  tempest  on 
one  day,  and  a  calm  on  another?  Even  if  we  could  fore¬ 
tell  the  irregular  and  infinite  variations,  how  far  might 
we  not  still  be  from  the  power  of  combining  and  guiding 
their  causes?  No  man  but  the  lunatic  in  the  story  of 
Rasselas  ever  dreamt  that  he  could  command  the 
weather.  The  difficulty  plainly  consists  in  the  multi¬ 
plicity  and  minuteness  of  the  circumstances  which  act  on 
the  atmosphere.  Are  those  which  influence  the  forma¬ 
tion  of  the  human  character  likely  to  be  less  minute  and 
multiplied  ? 

The  style  of  Mr  Bentham  underwent  a  more  remark¬ 
able  revolution  than  perhaps  befell  that  of  any  other  cele¬ 
brated  writer.  In  his  early  works,  it  was  clear,  free,  spir¬ 
ited,  often  and  seasonably  eloquent.  Many  passages  of  his 
later  writings  retain  the  inimitable  stamp  of  genius;  but 
he  seems  to  have  been  oppressed  by  the  vastness  of  his 
projected  works, — to  have  thought  that  he  had  nodon- 
ger  more  than  leisure  to  preserve  the  heads  of  them, — to 
have  been  impelled  by  a  fruitful  mind  to  new  plans  be¬ 
fore  he  had  completed  the  old.  In  this  state  of  things, 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


211 


he  gradually  ceased  to  use  words  for  conveying  his 
thoughts  to  others,  but  merely  employed  them  as  a  short¬ 
hand  to  preserve  his  meaning  for  his  own  purpose.  It 
was  no  wonder  that  his  language  7should  thus  become 
obscure  and  repulsive.  Though  many  of  his  technical 
terms  are  in  themselves  exact  and  pithy,  yet  the  over¬ 
flow  of  his  vast  nomenclature  was  enough  to  darken  his 
whole  diction. 

It  was  at  this  critical  period  that  the  arrangement  and 
translation  of  his  manuscripts  were  undertaken  by  M. 
Dumont,  a  generous  disciple,  who  devoted  a  genius 
formed  for  original  and  lasting  works,  to  diffuse  the 
principles  and  promote  the  fame  of  his  master.  He 
whose  pen  Mirabeau  did  not  disdain  to  borrow, — who, 
in  the  same  school  with  Romilly,  had  studiously  pursued 
the  grace  as  well  as  the  force  of  composition, — was  per¬ 
fectly  qualified  to  strip  of  its  uncouthness  a  philosophy 
which  he  understood  and  admired.  As  he  wrote  in  a 
general  language,  he  propagated  its  doctrines  through¬ 
out  Europe,  where  they  were  beneficial  to  jurispru¬ 
dence,  but  perhaps  injurious  to  the  cause  of  reformation 
in  government.  That  they  became  more  popular  abroad 
than  at  home,  is  partly  to  be  ascribed  to  the  taste  and 
skill  of  M.  Dumont;  partly  to  that  tendency  towards 
free  speculation  and  bold  reform  which  was  more  preva¬ 
lent  among  nations  newly  freed,  or  impatiently  aspiring 
to  freedom,  than  in  a  people  long  satisfied  with  the  pos¬ 
session  of  a  system  of  government  like  that  which  others 
were  struggling  to  maintain,  and  not  yet  aware  of  the  im¬ 
perfections  and  abuses  in  their  laws,  to  the  amendment 
of  which  a  cautious  consideration  of  Mr  Bentham’s  works 
will  undoubtedly  most  materially  contribute. 


212 


PROGRESS  OF 


Dugald  Stewart.* 

Manifold  are  the  discouragements  rising  up  at 
every  step  at  that  part  of  this  Dissertation  which  extends 
to  very  recent  times.  No  sooner  does  the  writer  escape 
from  the  angry  disputes  of  the  living,  than  he  may  feel 
his  mind  clouded  by  the  name  of  a  departed  friend. 
But  there  are  happily  men  whose  fame  is  brightened  by 
free  discussion,  and  to  whose  memory  an  appearance  of 
belief  that  they  needed  tender  treatment  would  be  a 
grosser  injury  than  it  could  suffer  from  a  respectable  an¬ 
tagonist. 

Dugald  Stewart  was  the  son  of  Dr  Matthew  Stewart, 
Professor  of  Mathematics  in  the  University  of  Edin¬ 
burgh  ;  a  station  immediately  before  filled  by  Maclaurin, 
on  the  recommendation  of  Newton.  Hence  the  poet 
spoke  of  “the  philosophic  sire  and  son.'7f  He  was 
educated  at  Edinburgh,  and  he  heard  the  lectures  of 
Reid  at  Glasgow.  He  was  early  associated  with  his 
father  in  the  duties  of  the  Mathematical  Professorship  ; 
and  during  the  absence  of  Dr  Adam  Ferguson  as  Sec¬ 
retary  to  the  Commissioners  sent  to  conclude  a  peace 
with  North  America,  he  occupied  the  chair  of  Moral 
Philosophy.  He  was  appointed  to  the  Professorship  on 
the  resignation  of  Ferguson,  not  the  least  distinguished 
among  the  modern  moralists  inclined  to  the  Stoical 
school. 

This  office,  filled  in  immediate  succession  by  Fergu- 
guson,  Stewart,  and  Brown,  receiyeda  lustre  from  their 
names,  which  it  owed  in  no  degree  to  its  modest  exterior 
or  its  limited  advantages  ;  and  was  rendered  by  them 
the  highest  dignity,  in  the  humble,  but  not  obscure,  es¬ 
tablishments  of  Scottish  literature.  The  lectures  of  Mr 


*  Born  in  1753;  died  in  1828- 
t  Burns. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


213 


Stewart,  for  a  quarter  of  a  century,  rendered  it  famous 
through  every  country  where  the  1  ight  of  reason  was 
allowed  to  penetrate.  Perhaps  few  men  ever  lived,  who 
poured  into  the  breasts  of  youth  a  more  fervid  and  yet 
reasonable  love  of  liberty,  of  truth,  and  of  virtue.  How 
many  are  still  alive,  in  different  countries,  and  in  every 
rank  to  which  education  reaches,  who,  if  they  accurately 
examined  their  own  minds  and  lives,  would  not  ascribe 
much  of  whatever  goodness  and  happiness  they  possess, 
to  the  early  impressions  of  his  gentle  and  persuasive  elo¬ 
quence  !  He  lived  to  see  his  disciples  distinguished 
among  the  lights  and  ornaments  of  the  council  and  the 
senate.*  He  had  the  consolation  to  be  sure  that  no 
words  of  his  promoted  the  growth  of  an  impure  taste,  of 
an  exclusive  prejudice,  of  a  malevolent  passion.  With¬ 
out  derogation  from  his  writings,  it  may  be  said  that  his 
disciples  were  among  his  best  works.  He,  indeed,  who 
may  justly  be  said  to  have  cultivated  an  extent  of  mind 


*  As  an  example  of  Mr  Stewart’s  school  may  be  mentioned  Francis  Hor¬ 
ner,  a  favourite  pupil,  and,  till  his  last  moment,  an  affectionate  friend.  The 
short  life  of  this  excellent  person  is  worthy  of  serious  contemplation,  by 
those  more  especially,  who,  in  circumstances  like  his,  enter  on  the  slippery 
path  of  .public  affairs.  Without  the  aids  of  birth  or  fortune,  in  an  assembly 
where  aristocratical  propensities  prevail, — by  his  understanding-,  industry, 
pure  taste,  and  useful  information, — still  more  by  modest  independence,  by 
steadiness  and  sincerity,  joined  to  moderation, — by  the  stamp  of  unbending 
integrity,  and  by  the  conscientious  considerateness  which  breathed  through 
his  well-chosen  language, — he  raised  himself,  at  the  early  age  of  thirty-six, 
to  a  moral  authority  which,  without  these  qualities,  no  brilliancy  of  talents 
or  power  of  reasoning  could  have  acquired.  No  eminent  speaker  in  Parlia¬ 
ment  owed  so  much  of  his  success  to  his  moral  character.  His  high  place 
was  therefore  honourable  to  his  audience  and  to  his  country.  Regret  for 
his  death  was  expressed  with  touching  unanimity  from  every  part  of  a  divided 
assembly,  unused  to  manifestations  of  sensibility,  abhorrent  from  theatrical 
display,  and  whose  tribute  on  such  an  occasion  derived  its  peculiar  value 
from  their  general  coldness  and  sluggishness.  The  tears  of  those  to  whom 
he  was  unknown  were  shed  oyer  him;  and  at  the  head  of  those  by  whom  he 
was  “praised,  wept,  and  honoured,”  was  one,  whose  commendation  would 
have  been  more  enhanced  in  the  eye  of  Mr  Horner,  by  his  discernment  and 
veracity,  than  by  the  signal  proof  of  the  concurrence  of  all  orders,  as  well 
as  parties,  which  was  afforded  by  the  name  of  Howard. 


214 


PROGRESS  OF 


which  would  otherwise  have  lain  barren,  and  to  have 
contributed  to  raise  virtuous  dispositions  where  the  na¬ 
tural  growth  might  have  been  useless  or  noxious,  is  not 
less  a  benefactor  of  mankind,  and  may  indirectly  be  a 
larger  contributor  to  knowledge,  than  the  author  of  great 
works,  or  even  the  discoverer  of  important  truths.  The 
system  of  conveying  scientific  instruction  to  a  large  audi¬ 
ence  by  lectures,  from  which  the  English  universities 
have  in  a  great  measure  departed,  renders  his  qualities 
as  a  lecturer  a  most  important  part  of  his  merit  in  a  Scot¬ 
tish  university  which  still  adheres  to  the  general  method 
of  European  education.  Probably  no  modern  ever  ex¬ 
ceeded  him  in  that  species  of  eloquence  which  springs 
from  sensibility  to  literary  beauty  and  moral  excellence ; 
which  neither  obscures  science  by  prodigal  ornament, 
nor  disturbs  the  serenity  of  patient  attention ;  but  though 
it  rather  calms  and  soothes  the  feelings,  yet  exalts  the  ge¬ 
nius,  and  insensibly  inspires  a  reasonable  enthusiasm  for 
whatever  is  good  and  fair. 

He  embraced  the  philosophy  of  Dr  Reid,  a  patient,  mo¬ 
dest,  and  deep  thinker,*  who,  in  his  first  work  (En- 


•  Those  who  may  doubt  the  justice  of  this  description  will  do  well  to 
weigh  the  words  of  the  most  competent  of  judges,  who,  though  candid  and 
even  indulgent,  was  not  prodigal  of  praise.  “  It  is  certainly  very  rare  that 
a  piece  so  deeply  philosophical  is  wrote  with  so  much  spirit,  and  affords  so 
much  entertainment  to  the  reader.  Whenever  I  enter  into  your  ideas,  no 
man  appears  to  express  himself  with  greater  perspicuity.  Your  style  is  so 
correct  and  so  good  English,  that  I  found  not  any  thing  worth  the  remark¬ 
ing.  I  beg  my  compliments  to  my  friendly  adversaries  Dr  Campbell  and  Dr 
Gerard,  and  also  to  Dr  Gregory,  whom  I  suspect  to  be  of  the  same  disposi¬ 
tion,  though  he  has  not  openly  declared  himself  such.”  ( Letter  from  Mr 
Hume  to  Dr  Reid:  Stewart’s  Biographical  Memoirs ,  p.  417.) 

The  latter  part  of  the  above  sentences  (written  after  a  perusal  of  the 
proof-sheets  of  Dr  Reid’s  Enquiry ,  but  before  its  publication)  sufficiently 
shows,  that  Mr  Ilume  felt  no  displeasure  against  Reid  and  Campbell,  un¬ 
doubtedly  his  most  formidable  antagonists,  however  he  might  resent  the 
language  of  Dr  Beattie,  an  amiable  man,  an  elegant  and  tender  poet,  and  a 
good  writer  on  miscellaneous  literature  in  prose,  but  who,  in  his  Essay  on 
Truth — an  unfair  appeal  to  the  multitude  on  philosophical  questions — in¬ 
dulged  himself  in  the  personalities  and  invectives  of  a  popular  pamphleteer. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


215 


quiry  into  the  Human  Mind),  deserves  a  commendation 
more  descriptive  of  a  philosopher  than  that  bestowed  by 
Professor  Cousin — of  having  made  6i  a  vigorous  protest 
against  scepticism  on  behalf  of  common  sense.”  His  ob¬ 
servations  on  suggestion,  on  natural  signs,  on  the  connec¬ 
tion  between  what  he  calls  sensation  and  perception, 
though  perhaps  occasioned  by  Berkeley,  whose  idealism 
Reid  had  once  adopted,  are  marked  by  the  genuine 
spirit  of  original  observation.  As  there  are  too  many 
who  seem  more  wise  than  they  are,  so  it  was  the  more 
uncommon  fault  of  Reid  to  appear  less  a  philosopher 
than  he  really  was.  Indeed  his  temporary  adoption  of 
Berkeleianism  is  a  proof  of  an  unprejudiced  and  acute 
mind.  Perhaps  no  man  ever  rose  finally  above  the  se¬ 
ductions  of  that  simple  and  ingenious  system,  who  had 
not  sometimes  tried  their  full  effect  by  surrendering  his 
whole  mind  to  them. 

But  it  is  never  with  entire  impunity  that  philosophers 
borrow  vague  and  inappropriate  terms  from  vulgar  use. 
Never  did  man  afford  a  stronger  instance  of  the  danger 
than  Reid,  in  his  two  most  unfortunate  terms,  Common 
Sense  and  Instinct.  Common  Sense  is  that  average  por¬ 
tion  of  understanding,  possessed  by  most  men,  which,  as  it 
is  nearly  always  applied  to  conduct,  has  acquired  an 
almost  exclusively  practical  sense.  Instinct  is  the  habit¬ 
ual  power  of  producing  effects  like  contrivances  of  rea¬ 
son,  yet  so  far  beyond  the  intelligence  and  experience  of 
the  agent,  as  to  be  utterly  inexplicable  by  reference  to 
them.  No  man,  if  he  had  been  in  search  of  improper 
words,  could  have  discovered  any  more  unfit  than  these 
two,  for  denoting  that  law ,  or  state ,  or  faculty  of  mind, 
which  compels  us  to  acknowledge  certain  simple  and 
very  abstract  truths,  not  being  identical  propositions,  to 
lie  at  the  foundation  of  all  reasoning,  and  to  be  the  ne¬ 
cessary  ground  of  all  belief. 

Long  after  the  death  of  Dr  Reid,  his  philosophy  was 


216 


PROGRESS  OF 


taught  at  Paris  by  M.  Royer  Collard,*  who,  on  the  res¬ 
toration  of  free  debate,  became  the  most  philosophical 
orator  of  his  nation,  and  now  fills,  with  impartiality  and 
dignity,  the  chair  of  the  Chamber  of  Deputies.  His  in¬ 
genious  and  eloquent  scholar,  Professor  Cousin,  dissat¬ 
isfied  with  what  he  calls  “  the  sage  and  timid”  doctrines 
of  Edinburgh,  which  he  considered  as  only  a  vigorous 
protest,  on  behalf  of  common  sense,  against  the  scepti¬ 
cism  of  Hume,  sought  in  Germany  for  a  philosophy  of 
“  such  a  masculine  and  brilliant  character  as  might  com¬ 
mand  the  attention  of  Europe,  and  be  able  to  struggle 
with  success  on  a  great  theatre,  against  the  genius  of  the 
adverse  school.”f  It  may  be  questioned  whether  he 
found  in  Kant  more  than  the  same  vigorous  protest ,  un¬ 
der  a  more  systematic  form,  with  an  immense  nomencla¬ 
ture,  and  constituting  a  philosophical  edifice  of  equal 
symmetry  and  vastness.  The  preference  of  the  more 
boastful  system,  over  a  philosophy  thus  chiefly  blamed 
for  its  modest  pretensions,  does  not  seem  to  be  entirely 
justified  by  its  permanent  authority  in  the  country  which 
gave  it  birth ;  where,  however  powerful  its  influence  still 
continues  to  be,  its  doctrines  do  not  appear  to  have  now 
many  supporters:  and,  indeed,  the  accomplished  Profes¬ 
sor  himself  rapidly  shot  through  Kantianism,  and  now  ap¬ 
pears  to  rest  or  to  stop  at  the  doctrines  of  Schelling  and 
Hegel,  at  a  point  so  high,  that  it  is  hard  to  descry  from 
it  any  distinction  between  objects, — even  that  indispen¬ 
sable  distinction  between  Reality  and  Illusion .  As  the 
works  of  Reid,  and  those  of  Kant,  otherwise  so  different, 
appear  to  be  simultaneous  efforts  of  the  conservative 
power  of  philosophy  to  expel  the  mortal  poison  of  scep¬ 
ticism,  so  the  exertions  of  M.  Royer  Collard  and  M. 


*  Fragments  of  his  lectures  have  been  recently  published  in  a  French 
translation  of  Ur  Reid,  by  M.  Jonffroy:  CEuvres  Completes  de  Thomas  Reid, 
vol.  IV.  Paris,  1828. 

t  Cours  de  Philosophic,  par  M.  Cousin,  lecon  xii.  Paris,  1828. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


217 


Cousin,  however  at  variance  in  metaphysical  principles, 
seem  to  have  been  chiefly  roused  by  the  desire  of  deliv¬ 
ering  Ethics  from  that  fatal  taint  of  personal,  and,  indeed 
gross  interest,  which  that  science  had  received  in  France 
from  the  followers  of  Condillac,  especially  Helvetius,  St 
Lambert  and  Cabanis.  The  success  of  these  attempts  to 
render  Speculative  Philosophy  once  more  popular  in  the 
country  of  Descartes,  has  already  been  considerable. 
The  French  youth,  whose  desire  of  knowledge  and  love 
of  liberty  afford  an  auspicious  promise  of  the  succeeding 
age,  have  eagerly  received  doctrines,  of  which  the  moral 
part  is  so  much  more  agreeable  to  their  liberal  spirit, 
than  the  selfish  theory,  generated  in  the  stagnation  of  a 
corrupt,  cruel,  and  dissolute  tyranny. 

These  agreeable  prospects  bring  us  easily  back  to  our 
subject;  for  though  the  restoration  of  Speculative  Phi¬ 
losophy  in  the  country  of  Descartes  is  due  to  the  precise 
statement  and  vigorous  logic  of  M.  Royer  Collard,  the 
modifications  introduced  by  him  into  the  doctrine  of 
Reid  coincide  with  those  of  Mr  Stewart,  and  would 
have  appeared  to  agree  more  exactly,  if  the  forms  of  the 
French  philosopher  had  not  been  more  dialectical,  and  the 
composition  of  Mr  Stewart  had  retained  less  of  that  ora¬ 
torical  character,  which  belonged  to  a  justly  celebrated 
speaker.  Amidst  excellencies  of  the  highest  order,  his 
writings,  it  must  be  confessed,  leave  some  room  for  criti¬ 
cism.  He  took  precautions  against  offence  to  the  feelings 
of  his  contemporaries,  more  anxious  and  frequent  than 
the  impatient  searcher  for  truth  may  deem  necessary. 
For  the  sake  of  promoting  the  favourable  reception  of 
philosophy  itself,  he  studies  perhaps  too  visibly  to 
avoid  whatever  might  raise  up  prejudices  against  it. 
His  gratitude  and  native  modesty  dictated  a  superabun¬ 
dant  care  in  softening  and  excusing  his  dissent  from  those 
who  had  been  his  own  instructors,  or  who  were  the  ob¬ 
jects  of  general  reverence.  Exposed  by  his  station,  both 
2  C 


218 


PKOGltESS  OF 


to  the  assaults  of  political  prejudice,  and  to  the  religious 
animosities  of  a  country  where  a  few  sceptics  attacked  the 
slumbering  zeal  of  a  Calvinistic  people.,  it  would  have  been 
wonderful  if  he  had  not  betrayed  more  wariness  than  would 
have  been  necessary  or  becoming  in  a  very  different  posi¬ 
tion.  The  fulness  of  his  literature  seduced  him  too  much 
into  multiplied  illustrations.  Too  many  of  the  expedients 
happily  used  to  allure  the  young  may  unnecessarily  swell 
his  volumes.  Perhaps  a  successive  publication  in  sepa¬ 
rate  parts  made  him  more  voluminous  than  he  would  have 
been  if  the  whole  had  been  at  once  before  his  eyes.  A 
peculiar  susceptibility  and  delicacy  of  taste  produced 
forms  of  expression,  in  themselves  extremely  beautiful, 
but  of  which  the  habitual  use  is  not  easily  reconcilable 
with  the  condensation  desirable  in  works  necessarily  so 
extensive.  If,  however,  it  must  be  owned  that  the  cau¬ 
tion  incident  to  his  temper,  his  feelings,  his  philosophy, 
and  his  station,  has  somewhat  lengthened  his  composition, 
it  is  not  less  true,  that  some  of  the  same  circumstances 
have  contributed  towards  those  peculiar  beauties  which 
place  him  at  the  head  of  the  most  adorned  writers  on 
philosophy  in  our  language. 

Few  writers  rise  with  more  grace  from  a  plain  ground¬ 
work,  to  the  passages  which  require  greater  animation  or 
embellishment.  He  gives  to  narrative,  according  to  the 
precept  of  Bacon,  the  colour  of  the  time,  by  a  selection 
of  happy  expressions  from  original  writers.  Among  the 
secret  arts  by  which  he  diffuses  elegance  over  his  dic¬ 
tion,  may  be  remarked  the  skill  which,  by  deepening  or 
brightening  a  shade  in  a  secondary  term,  by  opening  par¬ 
tial  or  preparatory  glimpses  of  a  thought  to  be  afterwards 
unfolded,  unobservedly  heightens  the  import  of  a  word, 
and  gives  it  a  new  meaning,  without  any  offence  against 
old  use.  It  is  in  this  manner  that  philosophical  origi¬ 
nality  may  be  renonciled  to  purity  and  stability  of  speech, 
— that  we  may  avoid  new  terms,  which  are  the  easy  re- 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


219 


source  of  the  unskilful  or  the  indolent,  and  often  a  char¬ 
acteristic  mark  of  writers  who  love  their  language  too 
little  to  feel  its  peculiar  excellencies,,  or  to  study  the  art 
of  calling  forth  its  powers. 

He  reminds  us  not  unfrequently  of  the  character  given 
by  Cicero  to  one  of  his  contemporaries,  u  who  express¬ 
ed  refined  and  abstruse  thought,  in  soft  and  transparent 
diction. ??  His  writings  are  a  proof  that  the  mild  senti¬ 
ments  have  their  eloquence  as  well  as  the  vehement  pas¬ 
sions.  It  would  be  difficult  to  name  works  in  which  so 
much  refined  philosophy  is  joined  with  so  fine  a  fancy, 
— so  much  elegant  literature,  with  such  a  delicate  per¬ 
ception  of  the  distinguishing  excellencies  of  great  writers, 
and  with  an  estimate  in  general  so  just  of  the  services 
rendered  to  knowledge  by  a  succession  of  philosophers. 
They  are  pervaded  by  a  philosophical  benevolence, 
which  keeps  up  the  ardour  of  his  genius,  without  dis¬ 
turbing  the  serenity  of  his  mind, — which  is  felt  in  his 
reverence  for  knowledge,  in  the  generosity  of  his  praise, 
and  in  the  tenderness  of  his  censure.  It  is  still  more 
sensible  in  the  general  tone  with  which  he  relates  the 
successful  progress  of  the  human  understanding,  among 
many  formidable  enemies.  Those  readers  are  not  to  be 
envied  who  limit  their  admiration  to  particular  parts,  or 
to  excellencies  merely  literary,  without  being  warmed  by 
the  glow  of  that  honest  triumph  in  the  advancement  of 
knowledge,  and  of  that  assured  faith  in  the  final  preva¬ 
lence  of  truth  and  justice,  which  breathe  through  every 
page  of  them,  and  give  the  unity  and  dignity  of  a  moral 
purpose  to  the  whole  of  these  classical  works. 

He  has  often  quoted  poetical  passages,  of  which  some 
throw  much  light  on  our  mental  operations.  If  he  some¬ 
times  prized  the  moral  common-places  of  Thomson  and 
the  speculative  fancy  of  Akenside  more  highly  than  the 
higher  poetry  of  their  betters,  it  was  not  to  be  wondered 
at  that  the  metaphysician  and  the  moralist  should  some- 


220 


PROGRESS  OF 


times  prevail  over  the  lover  of  poetry.  His  natural  sen¬ 
sibility  was  perhaps  occasionally  cramped  by  the  cold 
critisism  of,  an  unpoetical  age  ;  and  some  of  his  remarks 
may  be  thought  to  indicate  a  more  constant  and  exclu¬ 
sive  regard  to  diction  than  is  agreeable  to  the  men  of  a 
generation  who  have  been  trained  by  tremendous  events 
to  a  passion  for  daring  inventions,  and  to  an  irregular  en¬ 
thusiasm,  impatient  of  minute  elegancies  and  refinement. 
Many  of  those  beauties  which  his  generous  criticism  de¬ 
lighted  to  magnify  in  the  works  of  his  contemporaries, 
have  already  faded  under  the  scorching  rays  of  a  fiercer 
sun. 

Mr  Stewart  employed  more  skill  in  contriving,  and 
more  care  in  concealing,  his  very  important  reforms  of 
Reid’s  doctrines,  than  others  exert  to  maintain  their 
claims  to  originality.  Had  his  well-chosen  language  of 
(i  laws  of  human  thought  or  belief*’  been  at  first  adopt¬ 
ed  in  that  school,  instead  of  “  instinct”  and  “  common 
sense,”  it  would  have  escaped  much  of  the  reproach 
(which  Dr  Reid  himself  did  not  merit)  of  shallowness  and 
popularity.  Expressions  so  exact,  employed  in  the  open¬ 
ing,  could  not  have  failed  to  influence  the  whole  system, 
and  to  have  given  it,  not  only  in  the  general  estimation, 
but  in  the  minds  of  its  framers,  a  more  scientific  com¬ 
plexion.  In  those  parts  of  Mr  Stewart’s  speculations  in 
which  he  most  departed  from  his  general  principles,  he 
seems  sometimes,  as  it  were,  to  be  suddenly  driven  back 
by  what  he  unconsciously  shrinks  from  as  ungrateful 
apostacy;  and  to  be  desirous  of  making  amends  to  his 
master,  by  more  harshness,  than  is  otherwise  natural  to 
him,  towards  the  writers  whom  he  has  insensibly  ap¬ 
proached.  Hence  perhaps  the  unwonted  severity  of  his 
language  towards  Tucker  and  Hartley.  It  is  thus  at  the 
very  time  when  he  largely  adopts  the  Principle  of  Asso¬ 
ciation  in  his  excellent  Essay  on  the  Beautiful,*  that  he 

•  Stewart’s  Philosophical  Essuys,  part  ii.  essay  i.  especially  chap.  vi. 
The  condensation,  if  not  omission,  of  the  discussion  of  the  theories  of  Buf- 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


221 


treats  most  rigidly  the  latter  of  these  writers,  to  whom, 
though  neither  the  discoverer  nor  the  sole  advocate  of 
that  principle,  it  surely  owes  the  greatest  illustration  and 
support. 

In  matters  of  far  other  importance,  causes  perhaps 
somewhat  similar  may  have  led  to  the  like  mistake. 
When  he  absolutely  contradicts  Dr  Reid,  by  truly  stat¬ 
ing  that  “  it  is  more  philosophical  to  resolve  the  power 
of  habit  into  the  association  of  ideas,  than  to  resolve  the 
association  of  ideas  into  habit, 77*  he,  in  the  sequel  of  the 
same  volume,!  refuses  to  go  farther  than  to  own,  that 
(i  the  theory  of  Hartley  concerning  the  origin  of  our 
affections,  and  of  the  moral  sense,  is  a  most  ingenious  re¬ 
finement  07i  the  selfish  system ,  and  that  by  means  of  it  the 
force  of  many  of  the  common  reasonings  against  that  sys¬ 
tem  is  eluded ;77  though  he  somewhat  inconsistently  al¬ 
lows,  that “  active  principles  which,  arising  from  circum¬ 
stances  in  which  all  the  situations  of  mankind  must  agree, 
are  therefore  common  to  the  whole  species,  at  whatever 
period  of  life  they  may  appear,  are  to  be  regarded  as  a 
part  of  human  nature,  no  less  than  the  instinct  of  suction  ; 
in  the  same  manner  as  the  acquired  perception  of  dis¬ 
tance,  by  the  eye,  is  to  be  ranked  among  the  perceptive 
powers  of  man,  no  less  than  the  original  perceptions  of 
the  other  senses.77!  In  another  place  also  he  makes  a 
remark  on  mere  beauty,  which  might  have  led  him  to  a 
more  just  conclusion  respecting  the  theory  of  the  origin 
of  the  affections  and  the  moral  sense:  “It  is  scarcely 
necessary  for  me  to  observe,  that,  in  those  instances 
where  association  operates  in  heightening  (or  he  might 
have  said  creates)  the  pleasures  we  receive  from  sight, 


fier,  Reynolds,  Burke,  and  Price,  in  this  essay,  would  have  lessened  that 
temporary  appearance  which  is  unsuitable  to  a  scientific  work. 

*  Elements  of  the  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind,  vol.  i.  p.  281,  edit. 
1792,  4to. 
f  Ibid,  p.  383. 

$  Ibid,  p.  385. 


222 


PROGRESS  OF 


the  pleasing  emotion  continues  still  to  appear,  to  onr 
consciousness,  simple  and  uncompounded. To  this  re¬ 
mark  he  might  have  added,  that  until  al!  the  separate 
pleasures  be  melted  into  one, — as  long  as  any  of  themare 
discerned  and  felt  as  distinct  from  each  other, — the  as¬ 
sociations  are  incomplete,  and  the  qualities  which  gratify 
are  not  called  by  the  name  of  beauty.  In  like  manner, 
as  has  been  repeatedly  observed,  it  is  only  when  all  the 
separate  feelings,  pleasurable  and  painful,  excited  by  the 
contemplation  of  voluntary  action,  are  lost  in  the  gene¬ 
ral  sentiments  of  approbation  or  disapprobation, — when 
these  general  feelings  retain  no  trace  of  the  various  emo¬ 
tions  which  originally  attended  different  actions, — when 
they  are  held  in  a  state  of  perfect  fusion  by  the  habitual 
use  of  the  words  used  in  every  language  to  denote  them, 
— that  conscience  can  be  said  to  exist,  or  that  we  can 
be  considered  as  endowed  with  a  moral  nature.  The 
theory  which  thus  ascribes  the  uniform  formation  of 
the  moral  faculty  to  universal  and  paramount  laws,  is  not 
a  refinement  of  the  selfish  system,  nor  is  it  any  modifica¬ 
tion  of  that  hypothesis.  The  partisans  of  selfishness 
maintain,  that  in  acts  of  will  the  agent  must  have  a  view 
to  the  pleasure  or  happiness  which  lie  hopes  to  reap 
from  it.  The  philosophers  who  regard  the  social  affec¬ 
tions  and  the  moral  sentiments  as  formed  by  a  process 
of  association,  on  the  other  hand,  contend  that  these  affec¬ 
tions  and  sentiments  must  work  themselves  clear  from 
every  particle  of  self-regarcl,  before  they  deserve  the 
names  of  benevolence  and  of  conscience.  In  the  actual 
state  of  human  motives,  the  two  systems  are  not  to  be 
likened,  but  to  be  contrasted  to  each  other.  It  is  re¬ 
markable  that  Mr  Stewart,  who  admits  the  “  question 
respecting  the  origin  of  the  affections  to  be  rather  curi- 


*  Philosophical  Essays,  part  ii.  essay  i.  chap.  vi. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


223 


ous  than  important,”*  should  have  held  a  directly  con¬ 
trary  opinion  respecting  the  moral  sense  ;f  to  which  these 
words,  in  his  sense  of  them,  seem  to  be  equally  applicable. 
His  meaning  in  the  former  affirmation  is,  that  if  the  affec¬ 
tions  be  acquired,  yet  they  are  justly  called  natural ; 
and  if  their  origin  he  personal,  yet  their  nature  may  and 
does  become  disinterested.  What  circumstance  distin¬ 
guishes  the  former  from  the  latter  case?  With  respect 
to  the  origin  of  the  affections,  it  must  not  be  overlooked 
that  his  language  is  somewhat  contradictory.  For  if  the 
theory  on  that  subject  from  which  he  dissents  were 
merely  “a  refinement  on  the  selfish  system,”  its  truth  or 
falsehood  could  not  be  represented  as  subordinate,  since 
the  controversy  would  continue  to  relate  to  the  existence 
of  disinterested  motives  of  human  conduct.^;  It  may 
also  be  observed,  that  he  uniformly  represents  his  oppo¬ 
nents  as  deriving  the  affections  from  self-love ,  which, 
in  its  proper  sense,  is  not  the  source  to  which  they  refer 
even  avarice ;  and  which  is  itself  derived  from  other  an¬ 
tecedent  principles,  some  of  which  are  inherent,  and  some 
acquired.  If  the  object  of  this  theory  of  the  rise  of  the 
most  important  feelings  of  human  nature  were,  as  our  phi¬ 
losopher  supposes,  “  to  elude  objections  against  the  sel¬ 
fish  system it  would  be  at  best  worthless.  Its  positive 
merits  are  several.  It  affirms  the  actual  disinterested¬ 
ness  of  human  motives,  as  strongly  as  Butler  himself. 
The  explanation  of  the  mental  law,  of  which  benevo¬ 
lence  and  conscience  are  formed  habitually,  when  it  is 
contemplated  deeply,  impresses  on  the  mind  the  truth 


*  Outlines  of  Moral  Philosophy,  p.  93. 

j-  Outlines,  p.  117.  “  This  is  the  most  important  question  that  can  be 
stated  with  respect  to  the  Theory  of  Morals.  ” 

t  In  the  Philosophy  of  the  Active  and  Moral  Powers  of  Man  (vol.  i.  p.  164), 
Mr  Stewart  has  done  more  manifest  injustice  to  the  Hartleian  theory,  by 
calling-  it  “  a  doctrine  fundamentally  the  same’>  with  the  selfish  system,  and 
especially  by  representing  Hartley,  who  ought  to  be  rather  classed  with 
Butler  and  Hume,  as  agreeing  with  Gay,  Tucker,  and  Paley. 


224 


PROGRESS  OF 


that  they  not  only  are  but  must  be  disinterested.  It 
confirms,  as  it  were,  the  testimony  of  consciousness,  by 
exhibiting  to  the  understanding  the  means  employed  to 
insure  the  production  of  disinterestedness.  It  affords 
the  only  effectual  answer  to  the  prejudice  against  the 
disinterested  theory,  from  the  multiplication  of  ultimate 
facts  and  implanted  principles,  which,  under  all  its  other 
forms,  it  seems  to  require.  No  room  is  left  for  this  pre¬ 
judice  by  a  representation  of  disinterestedness,  which 
ultimately  traces  its  formation  to  principles  almost  as 
simple  as  those  of  Hobbes  himself.  Lastly,  every  step 
in  just  generalization  is  an  advance  in  philosophy.  No 
one  has  yet  shown,  either  that  man  is  not  actually  disin¬ 
terested,  or  that  he  may  not  have  been  destined  to  be¬ 
come  so  by  such  a  process  as  has  been  described: — the 
cause  to  which  the  effects  are  ascribed  is  a  real  agent, 
which  seems  adequate  to  the  appearance  ;  and  if  future 
observation  should  be  found  to  require  that  the  theory 
shall  be  confined  within  narrower  limits,  such  a  limitation 
will  not  destroy  its  value. 

The  acquiescence  of  Mr  Stewart  in  Dr  Reid’s  gene¬ 
ral  representation  of  our  mental  constitution,  led  him  to 
indulge  more  freely  the  natural  bent  of  his  understand¬ 
ing,  by  applying  it  to  theories  of  character  and  manners, 
of  life  and  literature,  of  taste  and  the  arts,  more  than  to 
the  consideration  of  those  more  simple  principles  which 
rule  over  human  nature  under  every  form.  His  chief 
work,  as  he  frankly  owns,  is  indeed  rather  a  collection 
of  such  theories,  pointing  toward  the  common  end  of 
throwing  light  on  the  structure  and  functions  of  the 
mind,  than  a  systematic  treatise,  such  as  might  be  ex¬ 
pected  from  the  title  of  “  Elements.”  It  is  in  essays  of 
this  kind  that  he  has  most  surpassed  other  cultivators  of 
mental  philosophy.  His  remarks  on  the  effects  of  casual 
associations  may  be  quoted  as  a  specimen  of  the  most 
original  and  just  thoughts,  conveyed  in  the  best  man- 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


225 


ner.*  In  this  beautiful  passage,  he  proceeds  from  their 
power  of  confusing  speculation,  to  that  of  disturbing  ex¬ 
perience  and  of  misleading  practice ;  and  ends  with 
their  extraordinary  effect  in  bestowing  on  trivial,  and 
even  ludicrous  circumstances,  some  portion  of  the  dig¬ 
nity  and  sanctity  of  those  sublime  principles  with  which 
they  are  associated.  The  style,  at  first  only  clear,  after¬ 
wards  admitting  the  ornaments  of  a  calm  and  grave 
elegance,  at  last  rising  to  as  high  a  strain  as  philosophy 
will  endure,  and  of  which  all  the  parts  (various  as  their 
nature  is)  are  held  together  by  an  invisible  thread  of 
gentle  transition,  affords  a  specimen  of  ^adaptation  of  man¬ 
ner  to  matter  which  it  willl  be  hard  to  match  in  any 
philosophical  writer.  Another  very  fine  remark,  which 
seems  to  be  as  original  as  it  is  just,’ 'may  be  quoted  as  a 
sample  of  those  beauties  with  which  his  writings  abound. 
“  The  apparent  coldness  and  selfishness  of  mankind  may 
be  traced,  in  a  great  measure,  to  a  want  of  attention  and 
a  want  of  imagination.  In  the  case  of  those  misfortunes 
which  happen  to  ourselves  or  our  near  connections, 
neither  of  these  powers  is  necessary  to  make  us  acquaint¬ 
ed  with  our  situation.  But  without  an  uncommon  degree 
of  both,  it  is  impossible  for  any  man  to  comprehend  com¬ 
pletely  the  situation  of  his  neighbour,  or  to  have  an  idea 
of  the  greater  part  of  the  distress  which  exists  in  the 
world.  If  we  feel  more  for  ourselves  than  for  others, 
in  the  former  case  the  facts  are  more  fully  before  us  than 
they  can  be  in  the  latter. Yet  several  parts  of  his 
writings  afford  the  most  satisfactory  proof,  that  his  absti¬ 
nence  from  what  is  commonly  called  metaphysical  spec¬ 
ulation,  arose  from  no  inability  to  pursue  it  with  signal 
success.  As  examples,  his  observations  on  General 
Terms ,  and  on  Causation ,  may  be  appealed  to  with 

*  Elements  of  the  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind,  vol.  I.  p.  340-352. 

f  Ibid.  vol.  I.  p.  502. 


226 


PROGRESS  OF 


perfect  confidence.  In  the  first  two  Dissertations  of  the 
volume  bearing  the  title  of  Philosophical  Essays ,  he 
with  equal  boldness  and  acuteness  grapples  with  the 
most  extensive  and  abstruse  questions  of  mental  philoso¬ 
phy,  and  points  out  both  the  sources  and  the  uttermost 
boundaries  of  humanknowledge  with  a  Verulamean  hand. 
In  another  part  of  his  writings,  he  calls  what  are  de¬ 
nominated  first  principles  of  experience,  “  fundamental 
laws  of  human  belief ,  or  primary  elements  of  human 
reason;”* * * §  which  last  form  of  expression  basso  close  a 
resemblance  to  the  language  of  Kant,  that  it  should  have 
protected  the  latter  from  the  imputation  of  writing 
jargon. 

Mr  Stewart’s  excellent  volume  entitled  Outlines  of 
Moral  Philosophy ,  f  though  composed  only  as  a  text¬ 
book  for  the  use  of  his  hearers,  is  one  of  the  most  deci¬ 
sive  proofs  that  he  was  perfectly  qualified  to  unite  pre¬ 
cision  with  ease,  to  be  brief  with  the  utmost  clearness, 
and  to  write  with  becoming  elegance  in  a  style  where 
the  meaning  is  not  overladen  by  ornaments.  This  vol¬ 
ume  contains  his  properly  Ethical  Theory, %  which  is 
much  expanded,  but  not  substantially  altered,  in  his 
Philosophy  of  the  Active  and  Moral  Powers, § — a  work 
almost  posthumous,  and  composed  under  circumstances 
which  give  it  a  deeper  interest  than  can  be  inspired  by 
any  desert  in  science.  Though,  with  his  usual  modesty, 
he  manifests  an  anxiety  to  fasten  his  ethical  theory  to  the 
kindred  speculations  of  other  philosophers  of  the  Intel¬ 
lectual  School,  especially  to  those  of  Cudworth,  recently 
clothed  in  more  modern  phraseology  by  Price,  yet  he 
still  shows  that  independence  and  originality  which  all 
his  aversion  from  parade  could  not  entirely  conceal. 

*  Elements  of  the  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind,  vol.  II.  p.  57. 

f  Edinburgh,  1794,  8vo. 

4  P.  76-148. 

§  Two  vols,  8vo.  Edinburgh,  1828. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


227 


Right ,  duty ,  virtue ,  moral  obligation ,  and  the  like  or 
the  opposite  forms  of  expression,  represent,  according 
to  him,  certain  thoughts,  which  arise  necessarily  and 
instantaneously  in  the  mind  (or  in  the  reason,  if  we  take 
that  word  in  the  large  sense  in  which  it  denotes  all  that 
is  not  emotive)  at  the  contemplation  of  actions,  and 
which  are  utterly  incapable  of  all  resolution,  consequently 
of  all  explanation,  and  which  can  be  known  only  by 
being  experienced.  These  thoughts  or  ideas,  or  by 
whatever  other  name  they  may  be  called,  are  followed 
as  inexplicably,  but  as  inevitably,  by  pleasurable  and 
painful  emotions,  which  suggest  the  conception  of  moral 
beauty ;  a  quality  of  human  actions  distinct  from  their 
adherence  to  or  deviation  from  rectitude ,  though  gene¬ 
rally  coinciding  with  it.  The  question  which  a  reflect¬ 
ing  reader  will  here  put  is,  whether  any  purpose  is 
served  by  the  introduction  of  the  intermediate  mental 
process  between  the  particular  thoughts  and  the  moral 
emotions.  How  would  the  view  be  darkened  or  con¬ 
fused,  or  indeed  in  any  degree  changed,  by  withdraw¬ 
ing  that  process,  or  erasing  the  words  which  attempt  to 
express  it?  No  advocate  of  the  intellectual  origin  of 
the  moral  faculty  has  yet  stated  a  case  in  which  a  mere 
operation  of  reason  or  judgment,  unattended  by  emotion, 
could,  consistently  with  the  universal  opinion  of  man¬ 
kind,  as  it  is  exhibited  by  the  structure  of  language,  be 
said  to  have  the  nature  or  to  produce  the  effects  of  Con¬ 
science.  Such  an  example  would  be  equivalent  to  an 
experimentum  crucis  on  the  side  of  that  celebrated  the¬ 
ory.  The  failure  to  produce  it,  after  long  challenge,  is 
at  least  a  presumption  against  it,  nearly  approaching  to 
that  sort  of  decisively  discriminative  experiment.  It 
would  be  vain  to  restate  what  has  already  been  too  often 
repeated,  that  all  the  objections  to  the  selfish  philosophy 
turn  upon  the  actual  nature,  not  upon  the  original  source, 
of  our  principles  of  action  ;  and  that  it  is  by  a  confusion 


228 


PROGRESS  OF 


of  these  very  distinct  questions  alone  that  the  confuta¬ 
tion  of  Hobbes  can  be  made  apparently  to  involve  Hart¬ 
ley.  Mr  Stewart  appears,  like  most  other  metaphysi¬ 
cians,  to  have  blended  the  inquiry  into  the  nature  of  our 
moral  sentiments  with  that  other  which  only  seeks  a  cri¬ 
terion  to  distinguish  moral  from  immoral  habits  of  feeling 
and  actions  ;  for  he  considers  the  appearance  of  moral 
sentiment  at  an  early  age,  before  the  general  tendency 
of  actions  could  be  ascertained,  as  a  decisive  objection  to 
the  origin  of  these  sentiments  in  association, — an  objec¬ 
tion  which  assumes  that,  if  utility  be  the  criterion  of 
morality,  associations  with  utility  must  be  the  mode  by 
which  the  moral  sentiments  are  formed,  which  no  skilful 
advocate  of  the  theory  of  association  will  ever  allow. 
That  the  main,  if  not  sole  object  of  conscience  is  to  go¬ 
vern  our  voluntary  exertions,  is  manifest.  But  how 
could  it  perform  this  great  function  if  it  did  not  impel 
the  will?  and  how  could  it  have  the  latter  effect  as  a 
mere  act  of  reason,  or  indeed  in  any  respect  otherwise 
than  as  it  is  made  up  of  emotions,  by  which  alone  its 
grand  aim  could  in  any  degree  be  attained?  Judgment 
and  reason  are  therefore  preparatory  to  conscience,  not 
properly  a  part  of  it.  That  the  exclusion  of  reason  re¬ 
duces  virtue  to  be  a  relative  quality,  is  another  instance 
of  the  confusion  of  the  two  questions  in  moral  theory  ; 
for  though  a  fitness  to  excite  approbation  may  be  only  a 
relation  of  objects  to  our  susceptibility,  yet  the  proposi¬ 
tion  that  all  virtuous  actions  are  beneficial,  is  a  proposi¬ 
tion  as  absolute  as  any  other  within  the  range  of  our  un¬ 
derstanding. 

A  delicate  state  of  health,  and  an  ardent  desire  to  devote 
himself  exclusively  to  study  and  composition,  induced 
Mr  Stewart,  while  in  the  full  blaze  of  his  reputation  as 
a  lecturer,  to  retire,  in  1810,  from  the  labour  of  public 
instruction.  This  retirement,  as  he  himself  describes  it, 
was  that  of  a  quiet  but  active  life.  Three  quarto  and 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


229 


two  octavo  volumes,  besides  the  magnificent  Dissertations 
prefixed  to  this  Encyclopaedia,  were  among  its  happy 
fruits.  These  dissertations  are,  perhaps,  the  most  pro¬ 
fusely  ornamented  of  any  of  his  compositions  ;  a  peculi¬ 
arity  which  must  in  part  have  arisen  from  a  principle  of 
taste,  which  regarded  decoration  as  more  suitable  to  the 
history  of  philosophy  than  to  philosophy  itself.  But  the 
memorable  instances  of  Cicero,  of  Milton,  and  still  more 
those  of  Dryden  and  Burke,  seem  to  show  that  there  is 
some  natural  tendency  in  the  fire  of  genius  to  burn  more 
brightly,  or  to  blaze  more  fiercely  in  the  evening  than 
in  the  morning  of  human  life.  Probably  the  materials 
which  long  experience  supplies  to  the  imagination,  the 
boldness  with  which  a  more  established  reputation  arms 
the  mind,  [and  the  silence  of  the  low  but  formidable 
rivals  of  the  higher  principles,  may  concur  in  producing 
this  unexpected  and  little  observed  effect. 

It  was  in  the  last  years  of  his  life,  when  suffering  un¬ 
der  the  effects  of  a  severe  attack  of  palsy,  with  which 
he  had  been  afflicted  in  1822,  that  Mr  Stewart  most 
plentifully  reaped  the  fruits  of  long  virtue  and  a  well- 
ordered  mind.  Happily  for  him,  his  own  cultivation 
and  exercise  of  every  kindly  affection  had  laid  up  for 
him  a  store  of  that  domestic  consolation  which  none  who 
deserve  it  ever  want,  and  for  the  loss  of  which,  nothing 
beyond  the  threshold  can  make  amends.  The  same  phi¬ 
losophy  which  he  had  cultivated  from  his  youth  upward 
employed  his  dying  hand.  Aspirations  after  higher  and 
brighter  scenes  of  excellence,  always  blended  with  his 
elevated  morality,  became  more  earnest  and  deeper  as 
worldly  passions  died  away,  and  earthly  objects  vanished 
from  his  sight. 


230 


PROGRESS  OF 


THOMAS  BROWN.* 

A  writer,  as  he  advances  in  life,  ought  to  speak  with 
diffidence  of  systems  which  he  had  only  begun  to  consi¬ 
der  with  care  after  the  age  in  which  it  becomes  hard  for 
his  thoughts  to  flow  into  new  channels.  A  reader  can¬ 
not  be  said  practically  to  understand  a  theory,  till  he  has 
acquired  the  power  of  thinking,  at  least  for  a  short  time 
with  the  theorist.  Even  a  hearer,  with  all  the  helps  of 
voice  in  the  instructor,  of  countenance  from  him  and  from 
fellow-hearers,  finds  it  difficult  to  perform  this  necessary 
process  without  either  being  betrayed  into  hasty  and  un¬ 
distinguishing  assent,  or  falling,  while  he  is  in  pursuit  of 
an  impartial  estimate  of  opinions,  into  an  indifference  about 
their  truth.  I  have  felt  this  difficulty  in  reconsidering 
ancient  opinions  :  but  it  is  perhaps  more  needful  to  own  its 
power,  and  to  warn  the  reader  against  its  effects,  in  the  case 
of  a  philosopher  well  known  to  me,  and  with  whom  com¬ 
mon  friendships  stood  in  the  stead  of  much  personal  in¬ 
tercourse,  as  a  cement  of  kindness. 

I  very  early  read  Brown’s  Observations  on  the  Zoo- 
nomia  of  Dr  Darwin,  the  perhaps  unmatched  work  of  a 
boy  in  the  eighteenth  year  of  his  age.f  His  first  tract 
on  Causation  appeared  to  me  the  finest  model  of  discus¬ 
sion  in  mental  philosophy  since  Berkeley  and  Hume  ; 
with  this  superiority  over  the  latter,  that  its  aim  is  that 
of  a  philosopher  who  seeks  to  enlarge  knowledge,  not 
that  of  a  sceptic,  the  most  illustrious  of  whom  have  no 

*  Born  In  1778;  died  in  1820. 

f  Welsh’s  Life  of  Brown,  p.  43;  a  pleasingly  affectionate  work,  fall  of 
analytical  spirit  and  metaphysical  reading1, — of  such  merit,  in  short,  that  I 
could  wish  to  have  found  in  it  no  phrenology.  Objections  a  priori  in  a  case 
dependent  on  facts  are  indeed  inadmissible.  Even  the  allowance  of  pre¬ 
sumptions  of  that  nature  would  open  so  wide  a  door  for  prejudices,  that  at 
most  they  can  be  considered  only  as  maxims  of  logical  prudence,  which 
fortify  the  watchfulness  of  the  individual.  The  fatal  objection  to  phrenology 
seems  to  me  to  be,  that  what  is  new  in  it,  or  peculiar  to  it,  has  no  approach 
to  an  adequate  foundation  in  experience. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


231 


better  end  than  that  of  displaying  their  powers  in  con¬ 
founding  and  darkening  every  truth ;  so  that  their  very 
happiest  efforts  cannot  be  more  leniently  described  than 
as  brilliant  fits  of  mental  debauchery.*  From  a  diligent 
perusal  of  his  succeeding  works  at  the  time  of  their  pub¬ 
lication,  I  was  prevented  by  pursuits  and  duties  of  a 
very  different  nature.  These  causes,  together  with  ill 
health  and  growing  occupation,  hindered  me  from  read¬ 
ing  his  Lectures  with  due  attention,  till  it  has  now  be¬ 
come  a  duty  to  consider  with  care  that  part  of  them  which 
relates  to  Ethics. 

Dr  Brown  was  born  in  one  of  those  families  of  minis¬ 
ters  in  the  Scottish  church  w  ho,  after  a  generation  or 
two  of  a  humble  life  spent  in  piety  and  usefulness,  with 
no  more  than  needful  knowledge,  have  more  than  once 
sent  forth  a  man  of  genius  from  their  cool  and  quiet 
shade,  to  make  his  fellows  wiser  or  better  by  tongue  or 
pen,  by  head  or  hand.  Even  the  scanty  endowments 
and  constant  residence  of  that  church,  by  keeping  her 
ministers  far  from  the  objects  which  awaken  turbulent 
passions  and  disperse  the  understanding  on  many  pur¬ 
suits,  afforded  some  of  the  leisure  and  calm  of  monastic 
life,  without  the  exclusion  of  the  charities  of  family 
and  kindred.  It  may  be  well  doubted  whether  this  un¬ 
dissipated  retirement,  which  during  the  eighteenth  cen¬ 
tury  was  very  general  in  Scotland,  did  not  make  full 
amends  for  the  loss  of  curious  and  ornamental  know¬ 
ledge,  by  its  tendency  to  qualify  men  for  professional 
duty,  by  the  cultivation  of  reason  among  a  considerable 

*  “Bayle,  a  writer  who,  pervading1  human  nature  at  his  ease,  struck  into 
the  province  of  paradox  as  an  exercise  for  the  unwearied  vigour  of  his  mind; 
who,  with  a  soul  superior  to  the  sharpest  attacks  of  fortune,  and  a  heart 
practised  to  the  best  philosophy,  had  not  enough  of  real  greatness  to  over¬ 
come  that  last  foible  of  superior  minds,  the  temptation  of  honour  which  the 
academic  exercise  of  wit  is  conceived  to  bring  to  its  professor.”  So  War- 
burton  ( Divine  Legation ,  book  i.  sect.  4),  speaking  of  Bayle,  but  perhaps 
in  part  excusing  himself — in  a  noble  strain,  of  which  it  would  have  been 
more  agreeable  to  find  the  repetition  than  the  contrast  in  his  language  to¬ 
wards  Hume- 


232 


PROGRESS  OF 


number,  and  by  those  opportunities  for  high  meditation, 
and  for  the  unchangeable  concentration  of  mind  on  wor¬ 
thy  objects,  to  the  few  who  had  the  natural  capacity  for 
such  exertions.* 

An  authentic  account  of  the  early  exercises  of  Brown’s 
mind  is  preserved  by  his  biographer. f  At  the  age  of 
nineteen  he  took  a  part  with  others,  some  of  whom  be¬ 
came  the  most  memorable  men  of  their  time,  in  the  foun¬ 
dation  of  a  private  society  in  Edinburgh,  under  the 
name  of  16  the  Academy  of  Physics. 

The  character  of  Dr  Brown  is  very  attractive,  as  an 
example  of  one  in  whom  the  utmost  tenderness  of  affec¬ 
tion,  and  the  indulgence  of  a  flowery  fancy,  were  not  re¬ 
pressed  by  the  highest  cultivation,  and  by  a  perhaps 
excessive  refinement  of  intellect.  His  mind  soared  and 
roamed  through  every  region  of  philosophy  and  poetry; 
but  his  untravelled  heart  clung  to  the  hearth  of  his 
father,  to  the  children  who  shared  it  with  him,  and  after 


*  See  Sir  H.  Moncreife’s  Life  of  the  Reverend  Dr  Erskine. 

f  Welsh’s  Life  of  Brown,  p.  77,  and  App.  p.  498. 

J  A  part  of  the  first  day’s  minutes  is  here  borrowed  from  Mr  Welsh: — 
“  7th  January  1797. — Present,  Mr  Erskine,  President, — Mr  Brougham,  Mr 
Reddie,  Mr  Brown,  Mr  Birbeclc,  Mr  Leyden,”  he.  who  were  afterwards 
joined  by  Lord  Webb  Seymour,  Messrs  Horner,  Jeffrey,  Smyth,  &c.  Mr 
Erskine,  who  thus  appears  at  the  head  of  so  remarkable  an  association,  and 
whom  diffidence  and  untoward  circumstances  have  hitherto  withheld  from 
the  full  manifestation  of  his  powers,  continued  to  be  the  bosom  friend  of 
Brown  to  the  last,  and  showed  the  constancy  of  his  friendship  for  others  by 
converting  all  his  invaluable  preparations  for  a  translation  of  Sultan  Baber’s 
Commentaries  (perhaps  the  best,  certainly  the  most  European  work  of 
modern  eastern  prose)  into  the  means  of  completing  the  imperfect  attempt 
of  Leyden;  with  a  regard  equally  generous  to  the  fame  of  his  early  friend, 
and  to  the  comfort  of  that  friend’s  surviving  relations.  The  review  of  Ba¬ 
ber’s  Commentaries,  by  M.  Silvestre  de  Sacy,  in  the  Journal  des  Savans  for 
May  and  June  1829,  is  perhaps  one  of  the  best  specimens  extant  of  the 
value  of  literary  commendation  when  it  is  bestowed  with  conscientious 
calmness,  and  without  a  suspicion  of  bias,  by  one  of  the  greatest  oriental¬ 
ists,  in  a  case  where  he  pronounces  every  thing  to  have  been  done  by  Mr 
Erskine  “which  could  have  been  performed  by  the  most  learned  and  the 
most  scrupulously  conscientious  of  editors  and  translators.  ” 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


233 


them,  first  to  the  other  partners  of  his  childish  sports, 
and  then  almost  solely  to  those  companions  of  his  youth¬ 
ful  studies  who  continued  to  be  the  friends  of  his  life. 
Speculation  seemed  to  keep  his  kindness  at  home.  It  is 
observable,  that  though  sparkling  with  fancy,  he  does 
not  seem  to  have  been  deeply  or  durably  touched  by 
those  affections  which  are  lighted  at  its  torch,  or  at  least 
tinged  with  its  colours.  His  heart  sought  little  abroad, 
but  contentedly  dwelt  in  his  family  and  in  his  study. 
He  was  one  of  those  men  of  genius  who  repaid  the  ten¬ 
der  care  of  a  mother  by  rocking  the  cradle  of  her  repos-  t 
ing  age.  He  ended  a  life  spent  in  searching  for  truth, 
and  exercising  love,  by  desiring  that  he  should  be  bu¬ 
ried  in  his  native  parish,  with  his  t(  dear  father  and  mo¬ 
ther.7’  Some  of  these  delightful  qualities  were  perhaps 
hidden  from  the  casual  observer  in  general  society,  by 
the  want  of  that  perfect  simplicity  of  manner  which  is 
doubtless  their  natural  representative.  Manner  is  a 
better  mark  of  the  state  of  a  mind,  than  those  large  and 
deliberate  actions  which  form  what  is  called  conduct. 

It  is  the  constant  and  insensible  transpiration  of  char¬ 
acter.  In  serious  acts  a  man  may  display  himself.  In 
the  thousand  nameless  acts  which  compose  manner,  the 
mind  betrays  its  habitual  bent.  But  manner  is  then 
only  an  index  of  disposition,  when  it  is  that  of  men  who 
live  at  ease  in  the  intimate  familiarity  of  friends  and 
equals.  It  may  be  diverted  from  simplicity  by  causes 
which  do  not  reach  so  deep  as  the  character ;  by  bad 
models, ^or  by  a  restless  and  wearisome  anxiety  to  shine, 
arising  from  many  circumstances,  none  of  which  are  pro¬ 
bably  more  common  than  the  unseasonable  exertions  of 
a  recluse  student  in  society,  and  the  unfortunate  attempts 
of  some  others,  to  take  by  violence  the  admiration  of 
those  with  whom  they  do  not  associate  with  ease.  The 
association  with  unlike  or  superior  companions  which 
least  distorts  manners,  is  that  which  takes  place  with 
2  E 


234 


PROGRESS  OF 


those  classes  whose  secure  dignity  generally  renders 
their  own  manners  easy  ;  with  whom  the  art  of  pleasing 
or  of  not  displeasing  each  other  in  society  is  a  serious  con¬ 
cern  ;  who  have  leisure  enough  to  discover  the  positive 
and  negative  parts  of  the  smaller  moralities  ;  and  who, 
being  trained  to  a  watchful  eye  on  what  is  ludicrous, 
apply  the  lash  of  ridicule  to  affectation,  the  most  ridicu¬ 
lous  of  faults.  The  busy  in  every  department  of  life 
are  too  respectably  occupied  to  form  these  manners  or 
to  bestow  them.  They  are  the  frivolous  work  of  polish¬ 
ed  idleness  ;  and  perhaps  their  most  serious  value  con¬ 
sists  in  the  war  which  they  wage  against  affectation  ; 
though  even  there  they  betray  their  nature  in  punishing 


it,  not  as  a  deviation  from  nature,  but  as  a  badge  of  vul¬ 
garity. 


_  The  prose  of  Dr  Brown  is  brilliant  to  excess.  It 
must  not  be  denied  that  its  beauty  is  sometimes  woman¬ 
ly  ;  that  it  too  often  melts  down  precision  into  elegance  ; 
that  it  buries  the  main  idea  under  a  load  of  illustration, 
of  which  every  part  is  expanded  and  adorned  with  such 
a  visible  labour,  as  to  withdraw  the  mind  from  attention 
to  the  thoughts  which  it  professes  to  introduce  more 
easily  into  the  understanding.  It  is  darkened  by  exces¬ 
sive  brightness  ;  it  loses  ease  and  liveliness  by  over¬ 
dress  ;  and,  in  the  midst  of  its  luscious  sweetness,  we 
wish  for  the  striking  and  homely  illustrations  of  Tucker, 
and  for  the  pithy  and  sinewy  sense  of  Paley,  either  of 
whom,  by  a  single  short  metaphor  from  a  familiar,  per¬ 
haps  a  low  object,  could  at  one  blow  set  the  twu  worlds 
of  reason  and  fancy  in  movement. 

It  would  be  unjust  to  censure  severely  the  declama¬ 
tory  parts  of  his  Lectures ;  they  are  excusable  in  the 
first  warmth  of  composition.  They  might  even  be  jus¬ 
tifiable  allurements  in  attracting  young  hearers  to  ab¬ 
struse  speculations.  Had  he  lived,  he  would  probably 
have  taken  his  thoughts  out  of  the  declamatory  forms  of 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


235 


spoken  address,  and  given  to  them  the  appearance,  as 
well  as  the  reality,  of  deep  and  subtle  discussion.  The 
habits  indeed  of  so  successful  a  lecturer,  and  the  natural 
luxuriancy  of  his  mind,  could  not  fail  to  have  somewhat 
tinctured  all  his  compositions;  hut  though  he  might  still 
have  fallen  short  of  simplicity,  he  certainly  would  have 
avoided  much  of  the  diffusion,  and  even  common- place, 
which  hang  heavily  on  original  and  brilliant  thoughts  ; 
for  it  must  be  owned,  that  though,  as  a  thinker,  he  is 
unusually  original,  yet  when  he  falls  among  the  declaim - 
ers,  he  is  infected  by  their  common-places. 

In  like  manner,  he  would  assuredly  have  shortened  or 
left  out  many  of  the  poetical  quotations  which  he  loved 
to  recite,  and  which  hearers  even  beyond  youth  hear 
with  delight.  There  are  two  very  different  sorts  of  pas¬ 
sages  of  poetry  to  be  found  in  works  on  philosophy, 
which  are  as  far  asunder  from  each  other  in  value  as  in 
matter.  A  philosopher  will  admit  some  of  those  won¬ 
derful  lines  or  words  which  bring  to  light  the  infinite 
varieties  of  character,  the  furious  bursts  or  wily  work¬ 
ings  of  passion,  the  winding  approaches  of  temptation, 
the  slippery  path  to  depravity,  the  beauty  of  tender¬ 
ness,  the  grandeur  of  what  is  awful  and  holy  in  man. 
In  every  such  quotation,  the  moral  philosopher,  if  he 
be  successful,  uses  the  best  materials  of  his  science  ;  for 
what  are  they  but  the  results  of  experiment  and  obser¬ 
vation  on  the  human  heart,  performed  by  artists  of  far 
other  skill  and  power  than  his  ?  They  are  facts  which 
could  have  only  been  ascertained  by  Homer,  by  Dante, 
by  Shakspeare,  by  Cervantes,  by  Milton.  Every  year 
of  admiration  since  the  unknown  period  when  the  Iliad 
first  gave  delight,  has  extorted  new  proofs  of  the  just¬ 
ness  of  the  picture  of  human  nature,  from  the  respond¬ 
ing  hearts  of  the  admirers.  Every  strong  feeling  which 
these  masters  have  excited  is  a  successful  repetition  of 
their  original  experiment,  and  a  continually  growing 


236 


PROGRESS  OF 


evidence  of  the  greatness  of  their  discoveries.  Quota¬ 
tions  of  this  nature  may  be  the  most  satisfactory,  as  well 
as  the  most  delightful,  proofs  of  philosophical  positions. 
Others  of  inferior  merit  are  not  to  be  interdicted  :  a 
pointed  maxim,  especially  when  familiar,  pleases,  and  is 
recollected.  I  cannot  entirely  conquer  my  passion  for 
the  Roman  and  Stoical  declamation  of  some  passages  in 
Lucan  and  Akenside.  But  quotations  from  those  who 
have  written  on  philosophy  in  verse,  or,  in  other  words, 
from  those  who  generally  are  inferior  philosophers,  and 
voluntarily  deliver  their  doctrines  in  the  most  disadvan¬ 
tageous  form,  seem  to  be  unreasonable.  It  is  agreeable, 
no  doubt,  to  the  philosopher,  still  more  to  the  youthful 
student,  to  meet  his  abstruse  ideas  clothed  in  the  sonorous 
verse  of  Akenside.  The  surprise  of  the  unexpected 
union  of  verse  with  science  is  a  very  lawful  enjoyment. 
But  such  slight  and  momentary  pleasures,  though  they 
may  tempt  the  writer  to  display  them,  do  not  excuse  a 
vain  effort  to  obtrude  them  on  the  sympathy  of  the 
searcher  after  truth  in  after- times.  It  is  peculiarly  un¬ 
lucky  that  Dr  Brown  should  have  sought  supposed  or¬ 
nament  from  the  moral  common-places  of  Thomson, 
rather  than  from  that  illustration  of  philosophy  which  is 
really  to  be  found  in  his  picturesque  strokes. 

Much  more  need  not  be  said  of  Dr  Brown’s  own 
poetry,  somewhat  voluminous  as  it  is,  than  that  it  indi¬ 
cates  fancy  and  feeling,  and  rose  at  least  to  the  rank  of 
an  elegant  accomplishment.  It  may  seem  a  paradox,  but 
it  appears  to  me  that  he  is  really  most  poetical  in  those 
poems  and  passages  which  have  the  most  properly  meta¬ 
physical  character.  For  every  various  form  of  life  and 
nature,  when  it  is  habitually  contemplated,  may  inspire 
feeling;  and  the  just  representation  of  these  feelings  may 
be  poetical.  Dr  Brown  observed  man,  and  his  wider 
world,  with  the  eye  of  a  metaphysician;  and  the  dark 
results  of  such  contemplations,  when  he  reviewed  them, 


ETIITCAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


237 


often  filled  his  soul  with  feelings  which,  being  both  grand 
and  melancholy,  were  truly  poetical.  Unfortunately, 
however,  few  readers  can  be  touched  with  fellow-feeling. 
He  sings  to  few,  and  must  be  content  with  sometimes 
moving  a  string  in  the  soul  of  the  lonely  visionary,  who, 
in  the  day-dreams  of  youth,  has  felt  as  well  as  meditated 
on  the  mysteries  of  nature.  His  heart  has  produced 
charming  passages  in  all  his  poems  ;  but,  generally  speak¬ 
ing,  they  are  only  beautiful  works  of  art  and  imitation. 
The  choice  of  Akenside  as  a  favourite  and  a  model  may, 
without  derogation  from  that  writer,  be  considered  as  no 
proof  of  a  poetically  formed  mind.*  There  is  more 
poetry  in  many  single  lines  of  Covvper  than  in  volumes 
of  sonorous  verses  such  as  Akenside’s.  Philosophical 
poetry  is  very  different  from  versified  philosophy.  The 
former  is  the  highest  exertion  of  genius,  the  latter  cannot 
be  ranked  above  the  slighter  amusements  of  ingenuity. 
Hr  Brown’s  poetry  was,  it  must  be  owned,  composed 
either  of  imitations,  which,  with  some  exceptions,  may 
be  produced  and  read  without  feeling,  or  of  effusions  of 
such  feelings  only  as  meet  a  rare  and  faint  echo  in  the 
human  breast. 

A  few  words  only  can  here  be  bestowed  on  the  intel¬ 
lectual  part  of  his  philosophy.  It  is  an  open  revolt 
against  the  authority  of  Reid  ;  and,  by  a  curious  concur¬ 
rence,  he  began  to  lecture  nearly  at  the  moment  when 
the  doctrines  of  that  philosopher  came  to  be  taught  with 
applause  in  France.  Mr  Stewart  had  dissented  from 
the  language  of  Reid,  and  had  widely  departed  from  his 
opinions  on  several  secondary  theories.  Hr  Brown  re¬ 
jected  them  entirely.  He  very  justly  considered  the 


*  His  accomplished  friend  Mr  Erskine  confesses  that  Brown’s  poems 
“  are  not  written  in  the  language  of  plain  and  gross  emotion.  The  string 
touched  is  too  delicate  for  general  sympathy.  They  are  in  an  unknown 
tongue  to  one  half”  (he  might  have  said  nineteen  twentieths)  “  of  the  read¬ 
ing  part  of  the  community.”  (Welsh’s  Life  of  Brown,  p.  4dl.) 


PROGRESS  OF 


338 

claim  of  Reid  to  the  merit  of  detecting  the  universal  de¬ 
lusion  which  had  betrayed  philosophers  into  the  belief 
that  ideas  which  were  the  sole  objects  of  knowledge  had 
a  separate  existence,  as  a  proof  of  his  having  mistaken 
their  illustrative  language  for  a  metaphysical  opinion 
but  he  does  not  do  justice  to  the  service  which  Reid 
really  rendered  to  mental  science,  by  keeping  the  atten¬ 
tion  of  all  future  speculators  in  a  state  of  more  constant 
watchfulness  against  the  transient  influence  of  such  an 
illusion.  His  choice  of  the  term  feeling f  to  denote  the 
operations  which  we  usually  refer  to  the  understanding, 
is  evidently  too  wide  a  departure  from  its  ordinary  use, 
to  have  any  probability  of  general  adoption.  No  defini¬ 
tion  can  strip  so  familiar  a  word  of  the  thoughts  and 
emotions  which  have  so  long  accompanied  it,  so  as  to  fit 
it  for  a  technical  term  of  the  highest  abstraction.  If  we 
can  be  said  to  have  a  feeling  t(  of  the  equality  of  the  an¬ 
gle  of  forty-five  degrees  to  half  the  angle  of  ninety  de¬ 
grees/^  we  may  call  Geometry  and  Arithmetic  sciences 
of  feeling.  He  has  very  forcibly  stated  the  necessity  of 
assuming  “  the  primary  universal  intuitions  of  direct 
belief”  which,  in  their  nature,  are  incapable  of  all  proof. 
They  seem  to  be  accurately  described  as  notions  which 
cannot  be  conceived  separately,  but  without  which  no¬ 
thing  can  be  conceived.  They  are  not  only  necessary 
to  reasoning  and  to  belief,  but  to  thought  itself.  It  is 
equally  impossible  to  prove  or  to  disprove  them.  He 
has  very  justly  blamed  the  school  of  Reid  for  ‘<an  ex¬ 
travagant  and  ridiculous57  multiplication  of  those  princi¬ 
ples  which  he  truly  represents  as  inconsistent  with  sound 
philosophy.  To  philosophize  is  indeed  nothing  more 
than  to  simplify  securely. § 


*  Brown’s  Lectures,  vol.  II.  p.  1-49. 
f  Ibid.  vol.  I.  p.  220,  &c. 
i  Ibid,  vol .  I.  p .  222. 

§  Dr  Brown  always  expresses  himself  best  where  he  is  short  and  familiar. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


239 


The  substitution  of  suggestion  for  the  former  phrase, 
association  of  ideas,  would  hardly  deserve  notice  in  so 
cursory  a  view,  if  it  had  not  led  him  to  a  serious  mis¬ 
conception  of  the  doctrines  and  deserts  of  other  philoso¬ 
phers.  The  fault  of  the  latter  phrase  is  rather  in  the 
narrowness  of  the  last,  than  in  the  inadequacy  of  the  first 
word.  Association  presents  the  fact  in  the  light  of  a 
relation  between  two  mental  acts.  Suggestion  denotes 
rather  the  power  of  the  one  to  call  up  the  other.  But 
whether  we  say  that  the  sight  of  ashes  suggests  fire,  or 
that  the  ideas  of  fire  and  ashes  are  associated,  we  mean 
to  convey  the  same  fact ;  and,  in  both  cases,  an  exact 
thinker  means  to  accompany  the  fact  with  no  hypothesis. 
Dr  Brown  has  supposed  the  word  association  as  intended 
to  affirm  that  there  was  some  £(  intermediate  process”* 
between  the  original  succession  of  the  mental  acts,  and 
the  power  which  they  acquired  therefrom  of  calling  up 
each  other.  This  is  quite  as  much  to  raise  up  imaginary 
antagonists  for  the  honour  of  conquering  them,  as  he 
justly  reprehends  Dr  Reid  for  doing  in  the  treatment  of 
preceding  philosophers.  He  falls  into  another  more  im¬ 
portant  and  unaccountable  error,  in  representing  his  own 
reduction  of  Mr  Hume’s  principles  of  association  (re¬ 
semblance,  contrariety,  causation,  contiguity  in  time  or 
place)  to  the  one  principle  of  contiguity,  as  a  discovery 
of  his  own,  by  which  his  theory  is  distinguished  from 
“  the  universal  opinion  of  philosophers.”!  Nothing  but 
too  exclusive  a  consideration  of  the  doctrines  of  the 
Scottish  school  could  have  led  him  to  speak  thus  of  what 

“An  hypothesis  is  nothing1  more  than  a  reason  for  making  one  experiment 
or  observation  rather  than  another.”  ( Lectures ,  vol.  I.  p.  170.)  In  1812, 
as  the  present  writer  observed  to  him  that  Reid  and  Hume  differed  more  in 
words  than  in  opinion,  he  answered,  “Yes,  Reid  bawled  out,  we  must  be¬ 
lieve  an  outward  world;  but  added  in  a  whisper,  we  can  give  no  reason  for 
our  belief.  Hume  cries  out,  we  can  give  no  reason  for  such  a  notion;  and 
whispers,  I  own  we  cannot  get  rid  of  it.” 

*  Brown’s  Lectures,  vol.  II.  p.  335 — 347. 

f  Ibid4  vol.  II.  p.  349.  1 


240 


PROGRESS  OF 


was  hinted  by  Aristotle,  distinctly  laid  down  by  Hobbes, 
and  fully  unfolded  both  by  Hartley  and  Condillac.  He 
has,  however,  extremely  enlarged  the  proof  and  the 
illustration  of  this  law  of  mind,  by  the  exercise  of  <c  a 
more  subtile  analysis,”  and  the  disclosure  of  “a  finer 
species  of  proximity.”*  As  he  has  thus  aided  and  con¬ 
firmed,  though  he  did  not  discover  the  general  law,  so 
he  has  rendered  a  new  and  very  important  service  to 
mental  science,  by  what  he  properly  calls  li  secondary 
laws  of  suggestion”!  or  association, — circumstances  which 
modify  the  action  of  the  general  law,  and  must  be  dis¬ 
tinctly  considered,  in  order  to  explain  its  connection 
with  the  phenomena.  The  enumeration  and  exposition 
are  instructive,  and  the  example  is  worthy  of  commenda¬ 
tion.  For  it  is  in  this  lower  region  of  science  that  most 
remains  to  be  discovered  ;  it  is  that  which  rests  most  on 
observation,  and  least  tempts  to  controversy  ;  it  is  by  im¬ 
provements  in  that  part  of  knowledge  that  the  founda¬ 
tions  are  secured,  and  the  whole  building  so  repaired  as 
to  rest  steadily  on  them.  The  distinction  of  common 
language  between  the  head  and  the  heart,  which,  as  we 
have  seen,  is  so  often  overlooked  or  misapplied  by  meta¬ 
physicians,  is,  in  the  system  of  Brown,  signified  by  the 
terms  ((  mental  states”  and  “  emotions.”  It  is  unlucky 
that  no  single  word  could  be  found  for  the  former,  and 
that  the  use  of  “feeling,”  as  the  generic  term,  should 
disturb  its  easy  comprehension  when  it  is  applied  more 
naturally. 

In  our  more  proper  province  he  has  followed  Butler, 
who  appears  to  have  been  chiefly  known  to  him  through 
Mr  Stewart,  in  the  theory  of  the  social  affections.  Their 
disinterestedness  is  enforced  by  the  arguments  of  both 
these  philosophers  as  well  as  of  Hutcheson.^  It  is  ob- 

*  Brown’s  Lectures ,  vol.  II.  p.  218,  &.c. 

•  f  Ibid.  vol.  II.  p.  270. 

*  Ibid.  vol.  III.  p.  248. 


-ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


241 


servable,  however,  that  he  applies  the  principle  of  sug¬ 
gestion  or  association  boldly  to  this  part  of  human  nature, 
and  seems  inclined  to  refer  to  it  even  sympathy  itself.* * * § 
It  is  hard  to  understand  how,  with  such  a  disposition  on 
the  subject  of  a  principle  so  generally  thought  ultimate 
as  Sympathy ,  he  should,  inconsistently  with  himself,  fol¬ 
low  Mr  Stewart  in  representing  the  theory  which  de¬ 
rives  the  affections  from  association  as  “  a  Modification 
of  the  Selfish  System .”f  He  mistakes  that  theory  by 
stating,  that  it  derives  the  affections  from  our  experience 
that  our  own  interest  was  connected  with  that  of  others; 
while  in  truth  it  considers  our  regard  to  our  own  interest 
as  formed  from  the  same  original  pleasures  by  association, 
which,  by  the  like  process,  may  and  do  directly  generate 
affections  towards  others,  without  passing  through  the 
channel  of  regard  to  our  general  happiness.  But,  says 
he,  this  is  only  an  hypothesis,  since  the  formation  of  these 
affections  is  acknowledged  to  belong  to  a  time  of  which 
there  is  no  remembrance  — an  objection  fatal  to  every 
theory  of  any  mental  function, — subversive,  for  example, 
of  Berkeley’s  discovery  of  required  visual  perception, 
and  most  strangely  inconsistent  in  the  mouth  of  a  philoso¬ 
pher  whose  numerous  simplifications  of  mental  theory  are 
and  must  be  founded  on  occurrences  which  precede  ex¬ 
perience.  It  is  in  all  other  cases,  and  it  must  be  in  this, 
sufficient  that  the  principle  of  the  theory  is  really  exist¬ 
ing,  that  it  explains  the  appearances,  that  its  supposed 
action  resembles  what  we  know  to  be  its  action  in  those 
similar  cases  of  which  we  have  direct  experience.  Last¬ 
ly,  he  in  express  words  admits  that,  according  to  the 
theory  to  which  he  objects,  we  have  affections  which  are 
at  present  disinterested. §  Is  it  not  a  direct  contradic= 


*  Brown’s  Lectures ,  vol.  III.  p.  282. 

t  Ibid.  vol.  IV.  p.  82,  et  seq. 

i  Ibid.  vol.  IV-  p.  87. 

§  Ibid.  vol.  IV.  p.  87. 

2  F 


l 


242 


PROGRESS  OF 


tion  in  terms  to  call  such  a  theory  il  a  modification  of  the 
selfish  system?”  His  language  in  the  sequel  clearly  in¬ 
dicates  a  distrust  of  his  own  statement,  and  a  suspicion 
that  he  is  not  only  inconsistent,  but  altogether  mistaken.* 

As  we  enter  more  deeply  into  the  territory  of  Ethics, 
we  at  length  discover  in  Brown  a  distinction,  the  neglect 
of  which  by  preceding  speculators  we  have  more  than 
once  lamented  as  productive  of  obscurity  and  confusion : 
— “  The  moral  affections,”  says  he,  i(  which  I  consider 
at  present,  I  consider  rather  physiologically”  (or,  as  he 
elsewhere  better  expresses  it,  (£  psychologically7*)  (i  than 
ethically,  as  parts  of  our  7nental  constitution ,  not  as  in¬ 
volving  the  fulfilment  or  violation  of  duties. ”f  He  im¬ 
mediately,  however,  loses  sight  of  this  distinction,  and 
reasons  inconsistently  with  it,  instead  of  following  it  to 
its  proper  consequences  in  his  explanation  of  conscience. 
Perhaps,  indeed,  (for  the  words  are  capable  of  more  than 
one  sense,)  he  meant  to  distinguish  the  virtuous  affec¬ 
tions  from  those  sentiments  which  have  morality  exclu¬ 
sively  in  view,  rather  than  to  distinguish  the  theory  of 
moral  sentiment  from  the  attempt  to  ascertain  the  char¬ 
acteristic  quality  of  right  action.  Friendship  is  conform¬ 
able  in  its  dictates  to  morality;  but  it  may  and  does  exist, 
without  any  view  to  it.  He  who  feels  the  affections, 
and  performs  the  duties  of  friendship,  is  the  object  of 
that  distinct  emotion  which  is  called  moral  approbation. 

It  is  on  the  subject  of  conscience  that,  in  imitation  of 
Mr  Stewart,  and  with  no  other  arguments  than  his,  he 
makes  his  chief  stand  against  the  theory  which  considers 
the  formation  of  that  master  faculty  itself  as  probably 
referable  to  the  necessary  and  universal  operation  of  those 
laws  of  human  nature  to  which  he  himself  ascribes  almost 
every  other  state  of  mind.  On  both  sides  of  this  question 
the  supremacy  of  conscience  is  alike  held  to  be  venerable 

*  Brown’s  Lectures,  vol.  IV.  p.  94-97. 

f  Ibid.  vol.  III.  p.  231. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


243 


and  absolute.  Once  more.,  be  it  remembered,  that  the 
question  is  purely  philosophical,  and  is  only  whether, 
from  the  impossibility  of  explaining  its  formation  by  more 
general  laws,  we  are  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  consid¬ 
ering  it  as  an  original  fact  in  human  nature,  of  which  no 
further  account  can  be  given.  Let  it,  however,  be  also 
remembered,  that  we  are  not  driven  to  this  supposition 
by  the  mere  circumstance,  that  no  satisfactory  explana¬ 
tion  has  yet  appeared ;  for  there  are  many  analogies  in 
an  unexplained  state  of  mind  to  states  already  explained, 
which  may  justify  us  in  believing  that  the  explanation 
requires  only  more  accurate  observation,  and  more  patient 
meditation,  to  be  brought  to  that  completeness  which  it 
probably  will  attain. 


SECTION  VII. 


GENERAL  REMARKS. 

Haying  thus  again  premised  an  already  often  repeat¬ 
ed  warning,  it  remains  that  we  should  offer  a  few  obser¬ 
vations  on  the  questions  so  understood,  which  naturally 
occur  on  the  consideration  of  Dr  Brown’s  argument  in 
support  of  the  proposition,  that  moral  approbation  is  not 
only  in  its  mature  state  independent  of  and  superior  to 
any  other  principle  of  human  nature,  regarding  which 
there  is  no  dispute,  but  that  its  origin  is  altogether  inex¬ 
plicable,  and  that  its  existence  is  an  ultimate  fact  in  men¬ 
tal  science.  Though  these  observations  are  immediately 
occasioned  by  the  perusal  of  Brown,  they  are  yet,  in  the 
main,  of  a  general  nature,  and  might  have  been  made 
without  reference  to  any  particular  writer. 

The  term  Suggestion ,  which  might  be  inoffensive  in 


244 


PROGRESS  OF 


describing  merely  intellectual  associations,  becomes  pe¬ 
culiarly  unsuitable  when  it  is  applied  to  those  combina¬ 
tions  of  thought  with  emotion,  and  to  those  unions  of 
feeling,  which  compose  the  emotive  nature  of  man.  Its 
common  sense  of  a  sign  recalling  the  thing  signified, 
always  embroils  the  new  sense  vainly  forced  upon  it.  No 
one  can  help  owning,  that  if  it  were  consistently  pursued, 
so  as  that  we  were  to  speak  of  suggesting  a  feeling  or  pas¬ 
sion,  the  language  would  be  universally  thought  absurd. 
To  suggest  love  or  hatred  is  a  mode  of  expression  so 
manifestly  incongruous,  that  most  readers  would  choose 
to  understand  it  as  suggesting  reflections  on  the  subject 
of  these  passages.  Suggest  would  not  be  understood  by 
any  common  reason  as  synonymous  with  revive  or  re¬ 
kindle.  Defects  of  the  same  sort  may  indeed  be  found  in 
the  parallel  phrases  of  most  if  not  all  philosophers,  and 
all  of  them  proceed  from  the  same  source, — namely,  the 
erroneous  but  prevalent  notion,  that  the  law  of  associa¬ 
tion  produces  only  such  a  close  union  of  a  thought  and  a 
feeling,  as  gives  one  the  power  of  reviving  the  other ; 
instead  of  the  truth,  that  it  forms  them  into  a  new  com¬ 
pound,  in  which  the  properties  of  the  component  parts 
are  no  longer  discoverable,  and  which  may  itself  become 
a  substantive  principle  of  human  nature.  They  supposed 
the  condition,  produced  by  its  power,  to  resemble  that 
of  material  substances  in  a  state  of  mechanical  diffusion  ; 
whereas  in  reality  it  may  be  better  likened  to  a  chemical 
combination  of  the  same  substances,  from  which  a  totallv 
new  product  arises.  The  language  involves  a  confusion 
of  the  question  which  relates  to  the  origin  of  the  prin¬ 
ciples  of  human  activity,  with  the  other  and  far  more 
important  question  which  relates  to  their  nature;  and  as 
soon  as  this  distinction  is  hidden,  the  theorist  is  either 
betrayed  into  the  selfish  system  by  a  desire  of  clearness 
and  simplicity,  or  tempted  to  the  needless  multiplication 
of  ultimate  facts  by  mistaken  anxiety  for  what  he  sup- 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


245 


poses  to  be  the  guards  of  our  social  and  moral  nature. 
The  defect  is  common  to  Brown  with  his  predecessors, 
but  in  him  less  excusable ;  for  he  saw  the  truth  and  re¬ 
coiled  from  it. 

It  is  the  main  defect  of  the  term  association  itself, 
that  it  does  not,  without  long  habit,  convey  the  notion 
of  a  perfect  union,  but  rather  leads  to  that  of  a  combina¬ 
tion  which  may  be  dissolved,  if  not  at  pleasure,  at  least 
with  the  help  of  care  and  exertion;  which  is  utterly  and 
dangerously  false  in  the  important  cases  where  such 
unions  are  considered  as  constituting  the  most  essential 
principles  of  human  nature.  Men  can  no  more  dissolve 
these  unions  than  they  can  disuse  their  habit  of  judging 
of  distance  by  the  eye,  and  often  by  the  ear.  But  sug¬ 
gestion  implies,  that  what  suggests  is  separate  from  what 
is  suggested,  and  consequently  negatives  that  unity  in  an 
active  principle  which  the  whole  analogy  of  nature,  as 
well  as  our  own  direct  consciousness,  shows  to  be  per¬ 
fectly  compatible  with  its  origin  in  composition. 

Large  concessions  are,  in  the  first  place,  to  be  remark¬ 
ed,  which  must  be  stated,  because  they  very  much  nar¬ 
row  the  matter  in  dispute.  Those  who,  before  Brown, 
contended  against  beneficial  tendency  as  the  standard  of 
morality,  have  either  shut  their  eyes  on  the  connexion 
of  virtue  with  general  utility ;  or  carelessly  and  obscurely 
allowed,  without  further  remark,  a  connexion  which  is 
at  least  one  of  the  most  remarkable  and  important  of 
ethical  facts.  He  acts  more  boldly,  and  avowedly  dis¬ 
cusses  “  the  relation  of  virtue  to  utility.7’  He  was  com¬ 
pelled  by  that  discussion  to  make  those  concessions  which 
so  much  abridge  this  controversy.  ii  Utility  and  virtue 
are  so  related,  that  there  is  perhaps  no  action  generally 
felt  to  be  virtuous,  which  it  would  not  be  beneficial  that 
all  men  in  similar  circumstances  should  imitate.77*  “  In 


*  Lectures,  vol.  IV.  p.  45.  The  unphilosophical  word  “perhaps”  must 


246 


PROGRESS  OP 


every  case  of  benefit  or  injury  willingly  done,  there  arise 
certain  emotions  of  moral  approbation  and  disapproba¬ 
tion.”*  “  The  intentional  produce  of  evil,  as  pure  evil, 
is  always  hated;  and  that  of  good,  as  pure  good,  always 
loved. All  virtuous  acts  are  thus  admitted  to  be  uni¬ 
versally  beneficial ;  morality  and  the  general  benefit  are 
acknowledged  always  to  coincide.  It  is  hard  to  say, 
then,  why  they  should  not  be  reciprocally  tests  of  each 
other,  though  in  a  very  different  way; — the  virtuous 
feelings,  fitted  as  they  are  by  immediate  appearance,  by 
quick  and  powerful  action,  being  sufficient  tests  of  mo¬ 
rality  in  the  moment  of  action,  and  for  all  practical  pur¬ 
poses  ;  while  the  consideration  of  tendency  to  general 
happiness,  a  more  obscure  and  slowly  discoverable 
quality,  should  be  applied  in  general  reasoning,  as  a  test 
of  the  sentiments  and  dispositions  themselves.  It  has 
been  thus  employed,  and  no  proof  has  been  attempted, 
that  it  has  ever  deceived  those  who  used  it  in  the  proper 
place.  It  has  uniformly  served  to  justify  our  moral  con¬ 
stitution,  and  to  show  how  reasonable  it  is  for  us  to  be 
guided  in  action  by  our  higher  feelings.  At  all  events 
it  should  be,  but  has  not  been  considered,  that  from  these 
concessions  alone  it  follows,  that  beneficial  tendency  is  at 
least  one  constant  property  of  virtue.  Is  not  this,  in  ef¬ 
fect,  an  admission  that  beneficial  tendency  does  distin¬ 
guish  virtuous  acts  and  dispositions  from  those  which  we 
call  vicious?  If  the  criterion  be  incomplete  or  delusive, 
let  its  faults  be  specified,  and  let  some  other  quality  be 
pointed  out,  which,  either  singly  or  in  combination  with 


be  struck  out  of  the  proposition,  unless  the  whole  be  considered  as  a  mere 
conjecture.  It  limits  no  affirmation,  but  destroys  it,  by  converting1  it  into  a 
guess.  See  the  like  concession,  vol.  IV.  p.  33,  with  some  words  interlarded, 
which  betray  a  sort  of  reluctance  and  fluctuation,  indicative  of  the  difficulty 
with  which  Brown  struggled  to  withhold  his  assent  from  truths  which  he 
unreasonably  dreaded. 

*  Lectures,  vol.  III.  p.  567. 
f  Ibid.  vol.  Ill-  p.  621. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


247 


beneficial  tendency,  may  more  perfectly  indicate  the  dis¬ 
tinction. 

But  let  us  not  be  assailed  by  arguments  which  leave 
untouched  its  value  as  a  test,  and  are  in  truth  directed 
only  against  its  fitness  as  an  immediate  incentive  and 
guide  to  right  action.  To  those  who  contend  for  its 
use  in  the  latter  character,  it  must  be  left  to  defend,  if 
they  can,  so  untenable  a  position.  But  all  others  must  re¬ 
gard  as  pure  sophistry  the  use  of  arguments  against  it  as 
a  test,  which  really  show  nothing  more  than  its  acknow¬ 
ledged  unfitness  to  be  a  motive. 

When  voluntary  benefit  and  voluntary  injury  are 
pointed  out  as  the  main,  if  not  the  sole  objects  of  moral 
approbation  and  disapprobation, — when  we  are  told  truly, 
that  the  production  of  good,  as  good,  is  always  loved,  and 
that  of  evil,  as  such,  always  hated, — can  we  require  a 
more  clear,  short,  and  unanswerable  proof,  that  benefi¬ 
cial  tendency  is  an  essential  quality  of  virtue?  It  is  in¬ 
deed  an  evidently  necessary  consequence  of  this  state¬ 
ment,  that  if  benevolence  be  amiable  in  itself,  our  affec¬ 
tion  for  it  must  increase  with  its  extent;  and  that  no  man 
can  be  in  a  perfectly  right  state  of  mind,  who,  if  he  con¬ 
sider  general  happiness  at  all,  is  not  ready  to  acknow¬ 
ledge  that  a  good  man  must  regard  it  as  being  in  its  own 
nature  the  most  desirable  of  all  objects,  however  the 
constitution  and  circumstances  of  human  nature  may  ren¬ 
der  it  unfit  or  impossible  to  pursue  it  directly  as  the 
object  of  life.  It  is  at  the  same  time  apparent 
that  no  such  man  can  consider  any  habitual  disposi¬ 
tion,  clearly  discerned  to  be  in  its  whole  result  at 
variance  with  general  happiness,  as  not  unworthy  of  be¬ 
ing  cultivated,  or  as  not  fit  to  be  rooted  out.  It  is  mani¬ 
fest  that,  if  it  were  otherwise,  he  would  cease  to  be  be¬ 
nevolent.  As  soon  as  we  conceive  the  sublime  idea  of 
a  Being  who  not  only  foresees,  but  commands,  all  the 
consequences  of  the  actions  of  all  voluntary  agents,  this 


248 


progress  oi- 


scheme  of  re  asoning  appears  far  more  clear.  In  such  a 
case,  if  our  moral  sentiments  remain  the  same,  they  com¬ 
pel  us  to  attribute  his  whole  government  of  the  world  to 
benevolence.  The  consequence  is  as  necessary  as  in  any 
process  of  reason  ;  for  if  our  moral  nature  be  supposed, 
it  will  appear  self-evident,  that  it  is  as  much  impossible 
for  us  to  love  and  revere  such  a  Being,  if  we  ascribe  to 
him  a  mixed  or  imperfect  benevolence,  as  to  believe  the 
most  positive  contradiction  in  terms.  Now,  as  religion 
consists  in  that  love  and  reverence,  it  is  evident  that  it 
cannot  subsist  without  a  belief  in  benevolence  as  the  sole 
principle  of  divine  government.  It  is  nothing  to  tell  us 
that  this  is  not  a  process  of  reasoning,  or,  to  speak  more 
exactly,  that  the  first  propositions  are  assumed.  The 
first  propositions  in  every  discussion  relating  to  intel¬ 
lectual  operations  must  likewise  be  assumed.  Conscience 
is  not  reason,  but  it  is  not  less  an  essential  part  of  human 
nature  than  reason.  Principles  which  are  essential  to 
all  its  operations  are  as  much  entitled  to  immediate  and 
implicit  assent,  as  those  principles  which  stand  in  the 
same  relation  to  the  reasoning  faculties.  The  laws  pre¬ 
scribed  by  a  benevolent  Being  to  his  creatures  must  ne¬ 
cessarily  be  founded  on  the  principle  of  promoting  their 
happiness.  It  would  be  singular  indeed,  if  the  proofs  of 
the  goodness  of  God,  legible  in  every  part  of  nature, 
should  not,  above  all  others,  be  most  discoverable  and 
conspicuous  in  the  beneficial  tendency  of  his  moral  laws. 

But  we  are  asked,  if  tendency  to  general  welfare  be 
the  standard  of  virtue,  why  is  it  not  always  present  to 
the  contemplation  of  every  man  who  does  or  prefers  a 
virtuous  action  ?  Must  not  utility  be  in  that  case  66  the 
felt  essence  of  virtue  ?”*  Why  are  other  ends,  besides 
general  happiness,  fit  to  be  morally  pursued  ? 


Lectures,  vol.  IV.  p.  38. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


249 


These  questions,  which  are  all  founded  on  that  confu¬ 
sion  of  the  theory  of  actions  with  the  theory  of  senti¬ 
ments against  which  the  reader  was  so  early  warned,* 
might  be  dismissed  with  no  more  than  a  reference  to 
that  distinction  from  the  forgetfulness  of  which  they 
have  arisen.  By  those  advocates  of  utility,  indeed,  who 
hold  it  to  be  a  necessary  part  of  their  system,  that  some 
glimpse  at  least  of  tendency  to  personal  or  general  well¬ 
being  is  an  essential  part  of  the  motives  which  render  an 
action  virtuous,  these  questions  cannot  be  satisfactorily 
answered.  Against  such  they  are  arguments  of  irresis¬ 
tible  force ;  but  against  the  doctrine  itself,  rightly  un¬ 
derstood  and  justly  bounded,  they  are  altogether  pow¬ 
erless.  The  reason  why  there  may,  and  must  be,  many 
ends  morally  more  fit  to  be  pursued  in  practice  than  ge¬ 
neral  happiness,  is  plainly  to  be  found  in  the  limited  ca¬ 
pacity  of  man.  A  perfectly  good  Being,  who  foresees 
and  commands  all  the  consequences  of  action,  cannot  in¬ 
deed  be  conceived  by  us  to  have  any  other  end  in  view 
than  general  wellbeing.  Why  evil  exists  under  that 
perfect  government,  is  a  question  towards  the  solution  of 
which  the  human  understanding  can  scarcely  advance  a 
single  step.  But  all  who  hold  the  evil  to  exist  only  for 
good,  and  own  their  inability  to  explain  why  or  how, 
are  perfectly  exempt  from  any  charge  of  inconsistency 
in  their  obedience  to  the  dictates  of  their  moral  nature. 
The  measure  of  the  faculties  of  man  renders  it  absolutely 
necessary  for  him  to  have  many  other  practical  ends ;  the 
pursuit  of  all  of  which  is  moral,  when  it  actually  tends 
to  general  happiness,  though  that  last  end  never  entered 
into  the  contemplation  of  the  agent.  It  is  impossible  for 
us  to  calculate  the  effects  of  a  single  action,  any  more 
than  the  chances  of  a  single  life.  But  let  it  not  be  has¬ 
tily  concluded,  that  the  calculation  of  consequences  is 


2  G 


*  See  supra,  p.  8 — 16. 


250 


PROGRESS  OF 


impossible  in  moral  subjects.  To  calculate  the  general 
tendency  of  every  sort  of  human  action,  is  a  possible, 
easy,  and  common  operation.  The  general  good  effects 
of  temperance,  prudence,  fortitude,  justice,  benevolence, 
gratitude,  veracity,  fidelity, — of  the  affections  of  kin¬ 
dred,  and  of  love  for  our  country, — are  the  subjects  of 
calculations  which,  taken  as  generalities,  are  absolutely 
unerring.  They  are  founded  on  a  larger  and  firmer  ba¬ 
sis  of  more  uniform  experience,  than  any  of  those  ordi¬ 
nary  calculations  which  govern  prudent  men  in  the  whole 
business  of  life.  An  appeal  to  these  daily  and  familiar 
transactions  furnishes  at  once  a  decisive  answer,  both  to 
those  advocates  of  utility  who  represent  the  considera¬ 
tion  of  it  as  a  necessary  ingredient  in  virtuous  motives, 
as  well  as  moral  approbation,  and  to  those  opponents  who 
turn  the  unwarrantable  inferences  of  unskilful  advocates 
into  proofs  of  the  absurdity  into  which  the  doctrine  leads. 

The  cultivation  of  all  the  habitual  sentiments  from 
which  the  various  classes  of  virtuous  actions  flow — the 
constant  practice  of  such  actions — the  strict  observance 
of  rules  in  all  that  province  of  Ethics  which  can  be  sub¬ 
jected  to  rules — the  watchful  care  of  all  the  outworks  of 
every  part  of  duty,  of  that  descending  series  of  useful 
habits  which,  being  securities  to  virtue,  become  them¬ 
selves  virtues, — are  so  many  ends  which  it  is  absolutely 
necessary  for  man  to  pursue  and  to  seek  for  their  own  sake. 

<( I  saw  D’Alembert,’7  says  a  very  late  writer,  (<  con¬ 
gratulate  a  young  man  very  coldly,  who  brought  him  a 
solution  of  a  problem.  The  young  man  said,  ‘  I  have 
done  this  in  order  to  have  a  seat  in  the  Academy.7  (  Sir,7 
answered  D'Alembert,  ‘  with  such  dispositions  you  ne¬ 
ver  will  earn  one.  Science  must  be  loved  for  its  own 
sake,  and  not  for  the  advantage  to  be  derived.  No 
other  principle  will  enable  a  man  to  make  progress  in 
the  Sciences.7  ”*  It  is  singular  that  D’Alembert  should 


*  Memoires  de  Montlosier ,  vol.  I.  p.  50. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


251 


not  perceive  the  extensive  application  of  this  truth  to 
the  whole  nature  of  man.  No  man  can  make  progress 
in  a  virtue  who  does  not  seek  it  for  its  own  sake.  No 
man  is  a  friend,  a  lover  of  his  country,  a  kind  father,  a 
dutiful  son,  who  does  not  consider  the  cultivation  of 
affection  and  the  performance  of  duty  in  all  these  cases 
respectively  as  incumbent  on  him  for  their  own  sake, 
and  not  for  the  advantage  to  be  derived  from  them.  Who¬ 
ever  serves  another  with  a  view  of  advantage  to  himself 
is  universally  acknowledged  not  to  act  from  affection. 
But  the  more  immediate  application  of  this  truth  to  our 
purpose  is,  that  in  the  case  of  those  virtues  which  are 
the  means  of  cultivating  and  preserving  other  virtues, 
it  is  necessary  to  acquire  love  and  reverence  for  the  se¬ 
condary  virtues  for  their  own  sake,  without  which  they 
never  will  be  effectual  means  of  sheltering  and  strength¬ 
ening  those  intrinsically  higher  qualities  to  which  they 
are  appointed  to  minister.  Every  moral  act  must  be 
considered  as  an  end,  and  men  must  banish  from  their 
practice  the  regard  to  the  most  naturally  subordinate 
duty  as  a  means.  Those  who  are  perplexed  by  the  sup¬ 
position  that  secondary  virtues,  making  up  by  the  extent 
of  their  beneficial  tendency  for  what  in  each  particular 
instance  they  may  want  in  magnitude ,  may  become  of 
as  great  importance  as  the  primary  virtues  themselves, 
would  do  well  to  consider  a  parallel  though  very  homely 
case.  A  house  is  useful  for  many  purposes :  many  of 
these  purposes  are  in  themselves,  for  the  time,  more 
important  than  shelter.  The  destruction  of  the  house 
may,  nevertheless,  become  a  greater  evil  than  the  defeat 
of  several  of  these  purposes,  because  it  is  permanently 
convenient,  and  indeed  necessary  to  the  execution  of 
most  of  them.  A  floor  is  made  for  warmth,  for  dryness 
— to  support  tables,  chairs,  beds,  and  all  the  household 
implements  which  contribute  to  accommodation  and  to 
pleasure.  The  floor  is  valuable  only  as  a  means  ;  but, 


252 


PROGRESS  OF 


as  the  only  means  by  which  many  ends  are  attained,  it 
may  be  much  more  valuable  than  some  of  them.  The 
table  might  be,  and  generally  is,  of  more  valuable  tim¬ 
ber  than  the  floor ;  but  the  workman  who  should  for 
that  reason  take  more  pains  in  making  the  table  strong 
than  the  floor  secure  would  not  long  be  employed  by 
customers  of  common  sense.  The  connection  of  that 
part  of  morality  which  regulates  the  intercourse  of  the 
sexes^with  benevolence,  affords  the  most  striking  instance 
of  the  very  great  importance  which  may  belong  to  a 
virtue,  in  itself  secondary,  but  on  which  the  general  cul¬ 
tivation  of  the  highest  virtues  permanently  depends. 
Delicacy  and  modesty  may  be  thought  chiefly  worthy  of 
cultivation,  because  they  guard  purity  ;  but  they  must 
be  loved  for  their  own  sake,  without  which  they  can¬ 
not  flourish.  Purity  is  the  sole  school  of  domestic  fidel¬ 
ity,  and  domestic  fidelity  is  the  only  nursery  of  the  affec¬ 
tions  between  parents  and  children,  from  children  to¬ 
wards  each  other,  and,  through  these  affections,  of  all 
the  kindness  which  renders  the  world  habitable.  At 
each  step  in  the  progress,  the  appropriate  end  must  be 
loved  for  its  own  sake ;  and  it  is  easy  to  see  how  the 
only  means  of  sowing  the  seeds  of  benevolence,  in  all  its 
forms,  may  become  of  far  greater  importance  than  many 
of  the  modifications  and  exertions  even  of  benevolence 
itself.  To  those  who  will  consider  this  subject,  it  will 
not  long  seem  strange  that  the  sweetest  and  most  gentle 
affections  grow  up  only  under  the  apparently  cold  and 
dark  shadow  of  stern  duty.  The  obligation  is  strength¬ 
ened,  not  weakened,  by  the  consideration  that  it  arises 
from  human  imperfection ;  which  only  proves  it  to  be 
founded  on  the  nature  of  man.  It  is  enough  that  the 
pursuit  of  all  these  separate  ends  leads  to  general  well¬ 
being,  the  promotion  of  which  is  the  final  purpose  of 
the  creation. 

The  last  and  most  specious  argument  against  benefi- 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY; 


253 


cial  tendency,  even  as  a  test,  is  conveyed  in  the  ques¬ 
tion,  why  moral  approbation  is  not  bestowed  on  every 
thing  beneficial,  instead  of  being  confined,  as  it  confes¬ 
sedly  is,  to  voluntary  acts.  It  may  plausibly  be  said, 
that  the  establishment  of  the  beneficial  tendency  of  all 
those  voluntary  acts  which  are  the  objects  of  moral  ap¬ 
probation  is  not  sufficient,  since,  if  such  tendency  be  the 
standard,  it  ought  to  follow,  that  whatever  is  useful 
should  also  be  morally  approved.  To  answer,  as  has 
before  been  done,*  that  experience  gradually  limits 
moral  approbation  and  disapprobation  to  voluntary  acts, 
by  teaching  us  that  they  influence  the  will,  but  are 
wholly  wasted  if  they  be  applied  to  any  other  object, — - 
though  the  fact  be  true,  and  contributes  somewhat  to  the 
result,  is  certainly  not  enough.  It  is  at  best  a  par¬ 
tial  solution.  Perhaps,  on  reconsideration,  it  is  entitled 
only  to  a  secondary  place.  To  seek  a  foundation  for 
universal,  ardent,  early,  and  immediate  feelings,  in  pro¬ 
cesses  of  an  intellectual  nature,  has,  since  the  origin  of 
philosophy,  been  the  grand  error  of  ethical  inquirers 
into  human  nature.  To  seek  for  such  a  foundation  in 
association,  an  early  and  insensible  process,  which  con¬ 
fessedly  mingles  itself  with  the  composition  of  our  first 
and  simplest  feelings,  and  which  is  common  to  both  parts 
of  our  nature,  is  not  liable  to  the  same  animadversion. 
If  conscience  be  uniformly  produced  by  the  regular  and 
harmonious  co-operation  of  many  processes  of  associa¬ 
tion,  the  objection  is  in  reality  a  challenge  to  produce  a 
complete  theory  of  it,  founded  on  that  principle,  by  ex¬ 
hibiting  such  a  full  account  of  all  these  processes  as  may 
satisfactorily  explain  why  it  proceeds  thus  far  and  no  far¬ 
ther.  This  would  be  a  very  arduous  attempt,  and  per¬ 
haps  it  may  be  premature.  But  something  may  be  more 


*  See  supra,  p.  145 — 147. 


254 


PROGRESS  OF 


modestly  tried  towards  an  outline ,  which,  though  it 
might  leave  many  particulars  unexplained,  may  justify 
a  reasonable  expectation  that  they  are  not  incapable  of 
explanation  ;  and  may  even  now  assign  such  reasons  for 
the  limitation  of  approbation  to  voluntary  acts,  as  may 
convert  the  objection  derived  from  that  fact  into  a  cor¬ 
roboration  of  the  doctrines  to  which  it  has  been  opposed 
as  an  insurmountable  difficulty.  Such  an  attempt  will 
naturally  lead  to  the  close  of  the  present  Dissertation. 
The  attempt  has  indeed  been  already  made,*  but  not 
without  great  apprehensions  on  the  part  of  the  author 
that  he  has  not  been  clear  enough,  especially  in  those 
parts  which  appeared  to  himself  to  owe  most  to  his  own 
reflection.  He  will  now  endeavour,  at  the  expense  of 
some  repetition,  to  be  more  satisfactory. 

There  must  be  primary  pleasures,  pains,  and  even  ap¬ 
petites,  which  arise  from  no  prior  state  of  mind,  and 
which,  if  explained  at  all,  can  be  derived  only  from 
bodily  organization  ;  for  if  there  were  not,  there  could 
he  no  secondary  desires.  What  the  number  of  the  un¬ 
derived  principles  may  be,  is  a  question  to  which  the 
answers  of  philosophers  have  been  extremely  various, 
and  of  which  the  consideration  is  not  necessary  to  our 
present  purpose.  The  rules  of  philosophizing,  however, 
require  that  causes  should  not  be  multiplied  without 
necessity.  Of  two  explanations,  therefore,  which  give 
an  equally  satisfactory  account  of  appearances,  that  the¬ 
ory  is  manifestly  to  be  preferred  which  supposes  the 
smaller  number  of  ultimate  and  inexplicable  principles. 
This  maxim,  it  is  true,  is  subject  to  three  indispensable 
conditions.  1.  That  the  principles  employed  in  the 
explanation  should  be  known  really  to  exist :  in  which 
consists  the  main  distinction  between  hypothesis  and 
theory.  Gravity  is  a  principle  universally  known  to 


*  See  supra,  p.  120 — 124,  163 — 174. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


2  55 


exist ;  ether  and  a  nervous  fluid  are  mere  suppositions. 
2.  That  these  principles  should  be  known  to  produce 
effects  like  those  which  are  ascribed  to  them  in  the  the¬ 
ory.  This  is  a  further  distinction  between  hypothesis 
and  theory  ;  for  there  are  an  infinite  number  of  degrees 
of  likeness ,  from  the  faint  resemblances  which  have  led 
some  to  fancy  that  the  functions  of  the  nerves  depend  on 
electricity,  to  the  remarkable  coincidences  between  the 
appearances  of  projectiles  on  earth,  and  the  movements 
of  the  heavenly  bodies,  which  constitutes  the  Newtonian 
system;  a  theory  now  perfect,  ‘though  exclusively 
founded  on  analogy,  and  in  which  one  of  the  classes  of 
phenomena  brought  together  by  it  is  not  the  subject  of 
direct  experience.  3.  That  it  should  correspond,  if 
not  with  all  the  facts  to  be  explained,  at  least  with  so 
great  a  majority  of  them  as  to  render  it  highly  probable 
that  means  will  in  time  be  found  of  reconciling  it  to  all. 
It  is  only  on  this  ground  that  the  Newtonian  system 
justly  claimed  the  title  of  a  legitimate  theory  during 
that  long  period  when  it  was  unable  to  explain  many 
celestial  appearances,  before  the  labours  of  a  century, 
and  the  genius  of  Laplace,  at  length  completed  the  the¬ 
ory,  by  adapting  it  to  all  the  phenomena.  A  theory 
may  be  just  before  it  is  complete. 

In  the  application  of  these  canons  to  the  theory  which 
derives  most  of  the  principles  of  human  action  from  the 
transfer  of  a  small  number  of  pleasures,  perhaps  organic, 
by  the  law  of  association  to  a  vast  variety  of  new  objects, 
it  cannot  be  denied,  ls£,  That  it  satisfies  the  first  of  the 
above  conditions,  inasmuch  as  association  is  really  one  of 
the  laws  of  human  nature  ;  2 clly,  That  it  also  satisfies 
the  second,  for  association  certainly  produces  effects  like 
those  which  are  referred  to  it  by  this  theory,  otherwise 
there  would  be  no  secondary  desires,  no  acquired  re¬ 
lishes  and  dislikes; — facts  universally  acknowledged, 
which  are  and  can  be  explained  only  by  the  principle 


256 


PROGRESS  OF 


called  by  Hobbes  mental  discourse  ; — by  Locke,  Hume, 
Hartley,  Condillac,  and  the  majority  of  speculators,  as 
well  as  in  common  speech,  association  ; — by  Tucker, 
translation  ; — and  by  Brown,  suggestion.  The  facts 
generally  referred  to  the  principle  resemble  those  which 
are  claimed  for  it  by  the  theory  in  this  important  par¬ 
ticular,  that  in  both  cases  equally,  pleasure  becomes 
attached  to  perfectly  new  things,  so  that  the  derivative 
desires  become  perfectly  independent  on  the  primary. 
The  great  dissimilarity  of  these  two  classes  of  passions 
has  been  supposed  to  consist  in  this,  that] the  former  always 
regards  the  interest  of  the  individual,  while  the  latter 
regards  the  welfare  of  others.  The  philosophical  world 
has  been  almost  entirely  divided  into  two  sects  ;  the  par¬ 
tisans  of  selfishness,  comprising  mostly  all  the  predeces¬ 
sors  of  Butler,  and  the  greater  part  of  his  successors; 
and  the  advocates  of  benevolence,  who  have  generally 
contended  that  the  reality  of  disinterestedness  depends 
on  its  being  a  primary  principle.  Enough  has  been  said 
by  Butler  against  the  more  fatal  heresy  of  selfishness. 
Something  has  already  been  said  against  the  error  of  the 
advocates  of  disinterestedness,  in  the  progress  of  this  at¬ 
tempt  to  develope  ethical  truths  historically,  in  the  order 
in  which  inquiry  and  controversy  brought  them  out  with 
increasing  brightness.  The  analogy  of  the  material  world 
is  indeed  faint,  and  often  delusive;  yet  we  dare  not  utterly 
reject  that  on  which  the  whole  technical  language  of 
mental  and  moral  science  is  necessarily  grounded.  The 
whole  creation  teems  with  instances  where  the  most  pow¬ 
erful  agents  and  the  most  lasting  bodies  are  the  acknow¬ 
ledged  results  of  the  composition,  sometimes  of  a  few, 
often  of  many  elements.  These  compounds  often  in  their 
turn  become  the  elements  of  other  substances ;  and  it  is 
with  them  that  we  are  conversant  chiefly  in  the  pursuits 
of  knowledge,  solely  in  the  concerns  of  life.  No  man 
ever  fancied,  that  because  they  were  compounds,  they 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


257 


» 

were  therefore  less  real.  It  is  impossible  to  confound 
them  with  any  of  the  separate  elements  which  contribute 
towards  their  formation.  But  a  much  more  close  resem¬ 
blance  presents  itself.  Every  secondary  desire,  or  ac¬ 
quired  relish,  involves  in  it  a  transfer  of  pleasure  to  some¬ 
thing  which  was  before  indifferent  or  disagreeable.  Is 
the  new  pleasure  the  less  real  for  being  acquired  ?  Is  it 
not  often  preferred  to  the  original  enjoyment  ?  Are  not 
many  of  these  secondary  pleasures  indestructible  ?  Do 
not  many  of  them  survive  primary  appetites  ?  Lastly, 
the  important  principle  of  regard  to  our  own  general 
welfare,  which  disposes  us  to  prefer  it  to  immediate  plea¬ 
sure,  unfortunately  called  self-love  (as  if,  in  any  intelli¬ 
gible  sense  of  the  term  love ,  it  were  possible  for  a  man  to 
love  himself),  is  perfectly  intelligible  if  its  origin  be  as¬ 
cribed  to  association,  but  utterly  incomprehensible  if  it 
be  considered  as  prior  to  the  appetites  and  desires,  which 
alone  furnish  it  with  materials.  As  happiness  consists  of 
satisfactions,  self-love  presupposes  appetites  and  desires 
which  are  to  be  satisfied.  If  the  order  of  time  were  im¬ 
portant,  the  affections  are  formed  at  an  earlier  period 
than  many  self-regarding  passions,  and  they  always  pre¬ 
cede  the  formation  of  self-love. 

Many  of  the  later  advocates  of  the  disinterested  sys¬ 
tem,  though  recoiling  from  an  apparent  approach  to  the 
selfishness  into  which  the  purest  of  their  antagonists  had 
occasionally  fallen,  were  gradually  obliged  to  make  con¬ 
cessions  to  the  derivative  system,  though  clogged  with 
the  contradictory  assertion,  that  it  was  only  a  refinement 
of  selfishness  :  and  we  have  seen  that  Brown,  the  last  and 
not  the  least  in  genius  of  them,  has  nearly  abandoned  the 
greater,  though  not  indeed  the  most  important  part  of  the 
territory  in  dispute,  and  scarcely  contends  for  any  unde¬ 
rived  principle  but  the  moral  faculty. 

In  this  state  of  opinion  among  the  very  small  number 
in  Great  Britain  who  still  preserve  some  remains  of  a 
2  H 


258 


PROGRESS  OF 


taste  for  such  speculations,  it  is  needless  here  to  trace  the 
application  of  the  law  of  association  to  the  formation  of 
the  secondary  desires,  whether  private  or  social.  For 
our  present  purposes,  the  explanation  of  their  origin  may 
be  assumed  to  be  satisfactory.  In  what  follows,  it  must, 
however,  be  steadily  borne  in  mind,  that  this  concession 
involves  an  admission  that  the  pleasure  derived  from  low 
objects  may  be  transferred  to  the  most  pure;  that  from  a 
part  of  a  self-regarding  appetite  such  a  pleasure  may  be¬ 
come  a  portion  of  a  perfectly  disinterested  desire;  and 
that  the  disinterested  nature  and  absolute  independence 
of  the  latter  are  not  in  the  slightest  degree  impaired  by 
the  consideration,  that  it  is  formed  by  one  of  those  grand 
mental  processes  to  which  the  formation  of  the  other 
habitual  states  of  the  human  mind  have  been,  with  great 
probability,  ascribed. 

When  the  social  affections  are  thus  formed,  they  are 
naturally  followed  in  every  instance  by  the  will  to  do 
whatever  can  promote  their  object.  Compassion  excites 
a  voluntary  determination  to  do  whatever  relieves  the  per¬ 
son  pitied.  The  like  process  must  occur  in  every  case 
of  gratitude,  generosity,  and  affection.  Nothing  so  uni¬ 
formly  follows  the  kind  disposition  as  the  act  of  will, 
because  it  is  the  only  means  by  which  the  benevolent  de¬ 
sire  can  be  gratified.  The  result  of  what  Brown  justly 
calls  “a  finer  analysis, 7?  shows  a  mental  contiguity  of  the 
affection  to  the  volition  to  be  much  closer  than  appears 
on  a  coarser  examination  of  this  part  of  our  nature.  No 
wonder,  then,  that  the  strongest  association,  the  most 
active  power  of  reciprocal  suggestion,  should  subsist  be¬ 
tween  them.  As  all  the  affections  are  delightful,  so  the 
volitions,  voluntary  acts  which  are  the  only  means  of  their 
gratification,  become  agreeable  objects  of  contemplation 
to  the  mind.  The  habitual  disposition  to  perform  them 
is  felt  in  ourselves,  and  observed  in  others,  with  satisfac¬ 
tion.  As  these  feelings  become  more  lively,  the  absence 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


259 


of  them  may  be  viewed  in  ourselves  as  a  pain,  in  others 
with  an  alienation  capable  of  indefinite  increase.  They 
become  entirely  independent  sentiments ;  still,  however, 
receiving  constant  supplies  of  nourishment  from  their 
parent  affections,  which,  in  well-balanced  minds,  recip¬ 
rocally  strengthen  each  other ;  unlike  the  unkind  pas¬ 
sions,  which  are  constantly  engaged  in  the  most  angry 
conflicts  of  civil  war.  In  this  state  we  desire  to  expe¬ 
rience  these  beneficent  volitions ,  to  cultivate  a  disposi¬ 
tion  towards  them,  and  to  do  every  correspondent  vol¬ 
untary  act.  They  are  for  their  own  sake  the  objects  of 
desire.  They  thus  constitute  a  large  portion  of  those 
emotions,  desires,  and  affections,  which  regard  certain 
dispositions  of  the  mind  and  determinations  of  the  will  as 
their  sole  and  ultimate  end.  These  are  what  are  called 
the  moral  sense,  the  moral  sentiments,  or  best  though 
most  simply,  by  the  ancient  name  of  Conscience  ;  which 
has  the  merit,  in  our  language,  of  being  applied  to  no 
other  purpose,  which  peculiarly  marks  the  strong  work¬ 
ing  of  these  feelings  on  conduct,  and  which,  from  its 
solemn  and  sacred  character,  is  well  adapted  to  denote 
the  venerable  authority  of  the  highest  principle  of  human 
nature. 

Nor  is  this  all :  It  has  already  been  seen  that  not  only 
sympathy  with  the  sufferer,  but  indignation  against  the 
wrong-doer,  contributes  a  large  and  important  share 
towards  the  moral  feelings.  We  are  angry  at  those  who 
disappoint  our  wish  for  the  happiness  of  others.  We 
make  the  resentment  of  the  innocent  person  wronged  our 
own.  Our  moderate  anger  approves  all  well-propor¬ 
tioned  punishment  of  the  wrong-doer.  We  hence  ap¬ 
prove  those  dispositions  and  actions  of  voluntary  agents 
which  promote  such  suitable  punishment,  and  disapprove 
those  which  hinder  its  infliction  or  destroy  its  effect ;  at 
the  head  of  which  may  be  placed  that  excess  of  punish¬ 
ment  beyond  the  average  feelings  of  good  men  which 


260 


PROGRESS  OF 


turns  the  indignation  of  the  calm  by-stander  against  the 
culprit  into  pity.  In  this  state,  when  anger  is  duly 
moderated, — when  it  is  proportioned  to  the  wrong, — 
when  it  is  detached  from  personal  considerations, — when 
dispositions  and  actions  are  its  ultimate  objects,— it  be¬ 
comes  a  sense  of  justice,  and  is  so  purified  as  to  be  fitted 
to  be  a  new  element  of  conscience.  There  is  no  part  of 
morality  which  is  so  directly  aided  by  a  conviction  of  the 
necessity  of  its  observance  to  the  general  interest,  as 
justice.  The  connection  between  them  is  discoverable 
by  the  most  common  understanding.  All  public  delibera¬ 
tions  profess  the  public  welfare  to  be  their  object;  all 
laws  propose  it  as  their  end.  This  calm  principle  of 
public  utility  serves  to  mediate  between  the  sometimes 
repugnant  feelings  which  arise  in  the  punishment  of 
criminals,  by  repressing  undue  pity  on  one  hand,  and 
reducing  resentment  to  its  proper  level  on  the  other. 
Hence  the  unspeakable  importance  of  criminal  laws  as  a 
part  of  the  moral  education  of  mankind.  Whenever 
they  carefully  conform  to  the  moral  sentiments  of  the  age 
and  country, — when  they  are  withheld  from  approach¬ 
ing  the  limits  within  which  the  disapprobation  of  good 
men  would  confine  punishment,  they  contribute  in  the 
highest  degree  to  increase  the  ignominy  of  crimes,  to 
make  men  recoil  from  the  first  suggestions  of  criminality, 
and  to  nourish  and  mature  the  sense  of  justice,  which 
lends  new  vigour  to  the  conscience  with  which  it  has 
been  united. 

Other  contributary  streams  present  themselves.  Qua¬ 
lities  which  are  necessary  to  virtue,  but  may  be  subser¬ 
vient  to  vice,  may,  independently  of  that  excellence  or 
of  that  defect,  be  in  themselves  admirable.  Courage, 
energy,  decision,  are  of  this  nature.  In  their  wild  state 
they  are  often  savage  and  destructive.  When  they  are 
tamed  by  the  society  of  the  alFections,  and  trained  up  in 
obedience  to  the  moral  faculty,  they  become  virtues  of 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


261 


the  highest  order,  and,  by  their  name  of  magnanimity , 
proclaim  the  general  sense  of  mankind  that  they  are  the 
characteristic  qualities  of  a  great  soul.  They  retain 
whatever  was  admirable  in  their  unreclaimed  state,  to¬ 
gether  with  all  that  they  borrow  from  their  new  associate 
and  their  high  ruler.  Their  nature,  it  must  be  owned, 
is  prone  to  evil ;  but  this  propensity  does  not  hinder 
them  from  being  rendered  capable  of  being  ministers  of 
good,  in  a  state  where  the  gentler  virtues  require  to  be 
vigorously  guarded  against  the  attacks  of  daring  de¬ 
pravity.  It  is  thus  that  the  strength  of  the  well-edu¬ 
cated  elephant  is  sometimes  employed  in  vanquishing 
the  fierceness  of  the  tiger,  and  sometimes  used  as  a 
means  of  defence  against  the  shock  of  his  brethren  of  the 
same  species.  The  delightful  contemplation,  however, 
of  these  qualities,  when  purely  applied,  becomes  one  of 
the  sentiments  of  which  the  dispositions  and  actions  of 
voluntary  agents  are  the  direct  and  final  object.  By 
this  resemblance  they  are  associated  with  the  other  moral 
principles,  and  with  them  contribute  to  form  Conscience, 
which,  as  the  master  faculty  of  the  soul,  levies  such  large 
contributions  on  every  province  of  human  nature. 

It  is  important,  in  this  point  of  view,  to  consider  also 
the  moral  approbation  which  is  undoubtedly  bestowed 
on  those  dispositions  and  actions  of  voluntary  agents 
which  terminate  in  their  own  satisfaction,  security,  and 
wellbeing.  They  have  been  called  duties  to  ourselves, 
as  absurdly  as  a  regard  to  our  own  greatest  happiness  is 
called  self-love.  But  it  cannot  be  reasonably  doubted, 
that  intemperance,  improvidence,  timidity,  even  when 
considered  only  in  relation  to  the  individual,  are  not 
only  regretted  as  imprudent,  but  blamed  as  morally 
wrong.  It  was  excellently  observed  by  Aristotle,  that 
a  man  is  not  commended  as  temperate ,  so  long  as  it  costs 
him  efforts  of  self-denial  to  persevere  in  the  practice  of 
temperance,  but  only  when  he  prefers  that  virtue  for  its 


262 


PROGRESS  OF 


own  sake.  He  is  not  meek,  nor  brave,  as  long  as  the 
most  vigorous  self-command  is  necessary  to  bridle  his 
anger  or  his  fear.  On  the  same  principle,  he  may  be 
judicious  or  prudent ;  but  he  is  not  benevolent  if  he  con¬ 
fers  benefits  with  a  view  to  his  own  greatest  happiness. 
In  like  manner,  it  is  ascertained  by  experience,  that  all 
the  masters  of  science  and  of  art — that  all  those  who 
have  successfully  pursued  truth  and  knowledge — love 
them  for  their  own  sake,  without  regard  to  the  generally 
imaginary  dower  of  interest,  or  even  to  the  dazzling 
crown  which  fame  may  place  on  their  heads.*  But  it 
may  still  be  reasonably  asked,  why  these  useful  qualities 
are  morally  improved,  and  how  they  become  capable  of 
being  combined  with  those  public  and  disinterested  senti¬ 
ments  which  principally  constitute  conscience?  The 
answer  is,  because  they  are  entirely  conversant  with 
volitions  and  voluntary  actions,  and  in  that  respect  re¬ 
semble  the  other  constituents  of  conscience,  with  which 
they  are  thereby  fitted  to  mingle  and  coalesce.  Like 
those  other  principles,  they  may  be  detached  from  what 
is  personal  and  outward,  and  fixed  on  the  dispositions 
and  actions,  which  are  the  only  means  of  promoting  their 
ends.  The  sequence  of  these  principles  and  acts  of  will 
becomes  so  frequent,  that  the  association  between  both 

*  See  the  Pursuit  of  Knowledge  under  Difficulties,  a  discourse  forming 
the  first  part  of  the  third  volume  of  the  Library  of  Entertaining  Knowledge, 
London,  1829.  The  author  of  this  Essay,  for  it  can  be  no  other  than  Mr 
Brougham,  will  by  others  be  placed  at  the  head  of  those  who,  in  the  midst 
of  arduous  employments,  and  surrounded  by  all  the  allurements  of  society, 
yet  find  leisure  for  exerting  the  unwearied  vigour  of  their  minds  in  every 
mode  of  rendering  permanent  service  to  the  human  species;  more  especially 
in  spreading  a  love  of  knowledge,  and  diffusing  useful  truth  among  all 
classes  of  men.  These  voluntary  occupations  deserve  our  attention  still  less 
as  examples  of  prodigious  power  than  as  proofs  of  an  intimate  conviction, 
which  binds  them  by  unity  of  purpose  with  his  public  duties,  that  (to  use 
the  almost  dying  words  of  an  excellent  person)  “  man  can  neither  be  happy 
without  virtue,  nor  actively  virtuous  without  liberty,  nor  securely  free  with, 
out  rational  knowledge.”  (Close  of  Sir  W.  Jones’s  last  Discourse  to  the 
Asiatic  Society  of  Calcutta.) 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


263 


may  be  as  firm  as  in  the  former  cases.  All  those  senti¬ 
ments  of  which  the  final  object  is  a  state  of  the  will,  be¬ 
come  thus  intimately  and  inseparably  blended ;  and  of 
that  perfect  state  of  solution  (if  such  words  may  be  al¬ 
lowed)  the  result  is  Conscience — the  judge  and  arbiter 
of  human  conduct ;  which,  though  it  does  not  supersede 
ordinary  motives  of  virtuous  feelings  and  habits,  which 
are  the  ordinary  motives  of  good  actions,  yet  exercises  a 
lawful  authority  even  over  them,  and  ought  to  blend 
with  them.  Whatsoever  actions  and  dispositions  are 
approved  by  conscience  acquire  the  name  of  virtues  or 
duties :  they  are  pronounced  to  deserve  commendation  ; 
and  we  are  justly  considered  as  under  a  moral  obligation 
to  practise  the  actions  and  cultivate  the  dispositions. 

The  coalition  of  the  private  and  public  feelings  is  very 
remarkable  in  two  points  of  view,  from  which  if  seems 
hitherto  to  have  been  scarcely  observed.  First ,  It  illus¬ 
trates  very  forcibly  all  that  has  been  here  offered  to  prove, 
that  the  peculiar  character  of  the  moral  sentiments  consists 
in  their  exclusive  reference  to  states  of  will ,  and  that  every 
feeling  which  has  that  quality,  when  it  is  purified  from 
all  admixture  with  different  objects,  becomes  capable  of 
being  absorbed  into  Conscience,  and  of  being  assimilated 
to  it,  so  as  to  become  a  part  of  it.  For  no  feelings  can 
be  more  unlike  each  other  in  their  object  than  the  pri¬ 
vate  and  the  social  ;  and  yet,  as  both  employ  voluntary 
actions  as  their  sole  immediate  means,  both  may  be  trans¬ 
ferred  by  association  to  states  of  the  will,  in  which  case 
they  are  transmuted  into  moral  sentiments.  No  exam¬ 
ple  of  the  coalition  of  feelings  in  their  general  nature 
less  widely  asunder,  could  afford  so  much  support  to  this 
position.  Secondly ,  By  raising  qualities  useful  to  our¬ 
selves  to  the  rank  of  virtues,  it  throws  a  strong  light  on 
the  relation  of  virtue  to  individual  interest ;  very  much 
as  justice  illustrates  the  relation  of  morality  to  general 
interest.  The  coincidence  of  morality  with  individual 


264 


PK OGRESS  OF 


interest  is  an  important  truth  in  Ethics.  It  is  most 
manifest  in  that  part  of  Ethics  which  we  are  now  consi¬ 
dering.  A  calm  regard  to  our  general  interest  is  indeed 
a  faint  and  infrequent  motive  of  action.  Its  chief  ad¬ 
vantage  is,  that  it  is  regular,  and  that  its  movements  may 
be  calculated.  In  deliberate  conduct  it  may  often  be 
relied  on,  though  perhaps  never  safely  without  know¬ 
ledge  of  the  whole  temper  and  character.  But  in  moral 
reasoning  at  least,  the  coincidence  is  of  unspeakable  ad¬ 
vantage.  If  there  be  a  miserable  man  who  has  cold 
affections,  a  weak  sense  of  justice,  dim  perceptions  of 
right  and  wrong,  and  faint  feelings  of  them  ; — if,  still 
more  wretched,  his  heart  be  constantly  torn  and  de¬ 
voured  by  malevolent  passions — the  vultures  of  the  soul , 
— we  have  one  resource  still  left,  even  in  cases  so  dread¬ 
ful.  Even  he  still  retains  a  human  principle,  to  which 
we  can  speak.  He  must  own  that  he  has  some  wish  for 
his  own  lasting  welfare.  We  can  prove  to  him  that  his 
state  of  mind  is  inconsistent  with  it.  It  may  be  impos¬ 
sible  indeed  to  show,  that  while  his  disposition  contin¬ 
ues  the  same,  he  can  derive  any  enjoyment  from  the 
practice  of  virtue.  But  it  may  be  most  clearly  shown, 
that  every  advance  in  the  amendment  of  that  disposi¬ 
tion  is  a  step  towards  even  temporal  happiness.  If  he 
do  not  amend  his  character,  we  may  compel  him  to  own 
that  he  is  at  variance  with  himself,  and  offends  against 
a  principle  of  which  even  he  must  recognise  the  reason¬ 
ableness. 

The  formation  of  Conscience  from  so  many  elements, 
and  especially  the  combination  of  elements  so  unlike  as 
the  private  desires  and  the  social  affections,  early  con¬ 
tributes  to  give  it  the  appearance  of  that  simplicity  and 
independence  which  in  its  mature  state  really  distinguish 
it.  It  becomes,  from  these  circumstances,  more  diffi¬ 
cult  to  distinguish  its  separate  principles  ;  and  it  is  im¬ 
possible  to  exhibit  them  in  separate  action.  The  affinity 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


265 


of  these  various  passions  to  each  other,  which  consists  in 
their  having  no  object  but  states  of  the  ivill ,  is  the  only 
common  property  which  strikes  the  mind.  Hence  the 
facility  with  which  the  general  terms,  first  probably 
limited  to  the  relations  between  ourselves  and  others, 
are  gradually  extended  to  all  voluntary  acts  and  dispo¬ 
sitions.  Prudence  and  temperance  become  the  objects 
of  moral  approbation.  When  imprudence  is  immedi¬ 
ately  disapproved  by  the  by  stander,  without  deliberate 
consideration  of  its  consequences,  it  is  not  only  displeas¬ 
ing,  as  being  pernicious,  but  it  is  blamed  as  wrong , 
though  with  a  censure  so  much  inferior  to  that  bestowed 
on  inhumanity  and  injustice,  as  may  justify  those  writers 
who  use  the  milder  term  improper.  At  length,  when 
the  general  words  come  to  signify  the  objects  of  moral 
approbation,  and  the  reverse,  they  denote  merely  the 
power  to  excite  feelings  which  are  as  independent  as  if 
they  were  underived,  and  which  coalesce  the  more  per¬ 
fectly,  because  they  are  detached  from  objects  so  various 
and  unlike  as  to  render  their  return  to  their  primitive 
state  very  difficult. 

The  question,*  why  we  do  not  morally  approve  the 
useful  qualities  of  actions  which  are  altogether  involun¬ 
tary ,  may  now  be  shortly  and  satisfactorily  answered  : 
because  conscience  is  in  perpetual  contact,  as  it  were, 
with  all  the  dispositions  and  actions  of  voluntary  agents, 
and  is  by  that  means  indissolubly  associated  with  them 
exclusively.  It  has  a  direct  action  on  the  will,  and  a 
constant  mental  contiguity  to  it.  It  has  no  such  mental 
contiguity  to  involuntary  changes.  It  has  never  per¬ 
haps  been  observed,  that  an  operation  of  the  conscience 
precedes  all  acts  deliberate  enough  to  be  in  the  highest 
sense  voluntary,  and  does  so  as  much  when  it  is  defeat¬ 
ed  as  when  it  prevails.  In  either  case  the  association  is 


2  I 


*  See  supra,  p.  124. 


266 


PROGRESS  OF 


repeated.  It  extends  to  the  whole  of  the  active  man. 
All  passions  have  a  definite  outward  object  to  which 
they  tend,  and  a  limited  sphere  within  which  they  act. 
But  conscience  has  no  object  but  a  state  of  will  ;  and  as 
an  act  of  will  is  the  sole  means  of  gratifying  any  passion, 
conscience  is  co-extensive  with  the  whole  man,  and  with¬ 
out  encroachment  curbs  or  aids  every  feeling,  even 
within  the  peculiar  province  of  that  feeling  itself.  As 
will  is  the  universal  means,  conscience,  which  regards 
will,  must  be  a  universal  principle.  As  nothing  is  in¬ 
terposed  between  conscience  and  the  will  when  the  mind 
is  in  its  healthy  state,  the  dictate  of  conscience  is  follow¬ 
ed  by  the  determination  of  the  will,  with  a  promptitude 
and  exactness  which  very  naturally  is  likened  to  the 
obedience  of  an  inferior  to  the  lawful  commands  of  those 
whom  he  deems  to  be  rightfully  placed  over  him.  It 
therefore  seems  clear,  that  on  the  theory  which  has  been 
attempted,  moral  approbation  must  be  limited  to  volun¬ 
tary  operations,  and  conscience  must  be  universal,  inde¬ 
pendent,  and  commanding. 

One  remaining  difficulty  may  perhaps  be  objected  to 
the  general  doctrines  of  this  Dissertation,  though  it  does 
not  appear  at  any  time  to  have  been  urged  against  other 
modifications  of  the  same  principle.  16  If  moral  appro¬ 
bation,”  it  may  be  said,  “  involve  no  perception  of  be¬ 
neficial  tendency,  whence  arises  the  coincidence  be¬ 
tween  that  principle  and  the  moral  sentiments  ???  It 
may  seem,  at  first  sight,  that  such  a  theory  rests  the 
foundation  of  morals  upon  a  coincidence  altogether  mys¬ 
terious,  and  apparently  capricious  and  fantastic.  Waiv¬ 
ing  all  other  answers,  let  us  at  once  proceed  to  that 
which  seems  conclusive.  It  is  true  that  conscience 
rarely  contemplates  so  distant  an  object  as  the  welfare 
of  all  sentient  beings.  But  to  what  point  is  every  one 
of  its  elements  directed  ?  What,  for  instance,  is  the 
aim  of  all  the  social  affections?  Nothing  but  the  pro- 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


267 


duction  of  larger  or  smaller  masses  of  happiness  among 
those  of  our  fellow-creatures  who  are  the  objects  of 
these  affections.  In  every  case  these  affections  promote 
happiness,  as  far  as  their  foresight  and  their  power  ex¬ 
tend.  What  can  be  more  conducive,  or  even  necessary, 
to  the  being  and  wellbeing  of  society,  than  the  rules  of 
justice?  Are  not  the  angry  passions  themselves,  as  far 
as  they  are  ministers  of  morality,  employed  in  removing 
hinderanees  to  the  welfare  of  ourselves  and  others, 
which  is  indirectly  promoting  it?  The  private  pas¬ 
sions  terminate  indeed  in  the  happiness  of  the  individual, 
which,  however,  is  a  part  of  general  happiness,  and  the 
part  over  which  wejiave  most  power.  Every  principle 
of  which  conscience  is  composed  has  some  portion  of 
happiness  for  its  object.  To  that  point  they  all  con¬ 
verge.  General  happiness  is  not  indeed  one  of  the  na¬ 
tural  objects  of  conscience,  because  our  voluntary  acts 
are  not  felt  and  perceived  to  affect  it.  But  how  small 
a  step  is  left  for  reason.  It  only  casts  up  the  items  of 
the  account.  It  has  only  to  discover  that  the  acts  of 
those  who  labour  to  promote  separate  portions  of  hap¬ 
piness  must  increase  the  amount  of  the  whole.  It  may 
be  truly  said,  that  if  observation  and  experience  did  not 
clearly  ascertain  that  beneficial  tendency  is  the  constant 
attendant  and  mark  of  all  virtuous  dispositions  and  ac¬ 
tions,  the  same  great  truth  would  be  revealed  to  us  by 
the  voice  of  conscience.  The  coincidence,  instead  of 
being  arbitrary,  arises  necessarily  from  the  laws  of  hu¬ 
man  nature,  and  the  circumstances  in  which  mankind 
are  placed.  We  perform  and  approve  virtuous  actions, 
partly  because  conscience  regards  them  as  right,  partly 
because  we  are  prompted  to  them  by  good  affections. 
All  these  affections  contribute  towards  general  wellbe¬ 
ing,  though  it  were  not  necessary,  nor  would  it  be  lit, 
that  the  agent  should  be  distracted  by  the  contempla¬ 
tion  of  that  vast  and  remote  object. 


268 


PROGRESS  OF 


The  various  relations  of  conscience  to  religion  vve  have 
already  been  led  to  consider  on  the  principles  of  Butler, 
of  Berkeley,  of  Paley,  and  especially  of  Hartley,  who  was 
led  by  his  own  piety  to  contemplate  as  the  last  and  high¬ 
est  stage  of  virtue  and  happiness,  a  sort  of  self  annihila¬ 
tion,  which,  however  unsuitable  to  the  present  condition 
of  mankind,  yet  places  in  the  strongest  light  the  disin¬ 
terested  character  of  the  system,  of  which  it  is  a  conceiva¬ 
ble  though  perhaps  not  attainable  result.  The  com¬ 
pleteness  and  rigour  acquired  by  conscience,  when  all 
its  dictates  are  revered  as  the  commands  of  a  perfectly 
wise  and  good  being,  are  so  obvious,  that  they  cannot  be 
questioned  by  any  reasonable  man,'  however  extensive 
his  incredulity  may  be.  It  is  thus  that  conscience  can 
add  the  warmth  of  an  affection  to  the  inflexibility  of 
principle  and  habit.  It  is  true  that,  in  examining  the 
evidence  of  the  divine  original  of  a  religious  system,  in 
estimating  an  imperfect  religion,  or  in  comparing  the 
demerits  of  religions  of  human  origin,  conscience  must 
be  the  standard  chiefly  applied.  But  it  follows  with 
equal  clearness,  that  those  who  have  the  happiness  to 
find  satisfaction  and  repose  in  divine  revelation,  are 
bound  to  consider  all  those  precepts  for  the  government 
of  the  will,  delivered  by  it,  which  are  manifestly  univer¬ 
sal,  as  the  rules  to  which  all  their  feelings  and  actions 
should  conform.  The  true  distinction  between  con¬ 
science  and  a  taste  for  moral  beauty  has  already  been 
pointed  out  a  distinction  which,  notwithstanding  its 
simplicity,  has  been  unobserved  by  philosophers,  per¬ 
haps  on  account  of  the  frequent  co-operation  and  inter¬ 
mixture  of  the  two  feelings.  Most  speculators  have 
either  denied  the  existence  of  the  taste,  or  kept  it  out  of 
view  in  their  theory,  or  exalted  it  to  the  place  which  is 
rightfully  filled  only  by  conscience.  Yet  it  is  perfectly 


*  See  supra ,  p.  170 — 173. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


269 


obvious  that,  like  all  the  other  feelings  called  pleasures 
of  imagination,  it  terminates  in  delightful  contemplation, 
while  the  moral  faculty  always  aims  exclusively  at  volun¬ 
tary  action.  Nothing  can  more  clearly  show  that  this 
last  quality  is  the  characteristic  of  conscience,  than  its 
being  thus  found  to  distinguish  that  faculty  from  the  sen¬ 
timents  which  most  nearly  resemble  it,  most  frequently 
attend  it,  and  are  most  easily  blended  with  it. 

Some  attempt  has  now  been  made  to  develope  the  fun¬ 
damental  principles  of  ethical  theory,  in  that  historical 
order  in  which  meditation  and  discussion  brought  them 
successively  into  a  clearer  light.  That  attempt,  as  far 
as  it  regards  Great  Britain,  is  at  least  chronologically 
complete.  The  spirit  of  bold  speculation,  conspicuous 
among  the  English  of  the  seventeenth  century,  languish¬ 
ed  after  the  earlier  part  of  the  eighteenth,  and  seems, 
from  the  time  of  Hutcheson,  to  have  passed  into  Scotland, 
where  it  produced  Hume,  the  greatest  of  sceptics,  and 
Smith,  the  most  eloquent  of  modern  moralists  ;  besides 
giving  rise  to  that  sober,  modest,  perhaps  timid  Philoso¬ 
phy,  which  is  commonly  called  Scotch, — which  has  the 
singular  merit  of  having  first  strongly  and  largely  incul¬ 
cated  the  absolute  necessity  of  admitting  certain  princi¬ 
ples  as  the  foundation  of  all  reasoning,  and  as  being  the 
indispensable  conditions  of  thought  itself.  In  the  eye  of 
the  moralist,  all  the  philosophers  of  Scotland,  Hume  and 
Smith  as  much  as  Reid,  Campbell,  and  Stewart,  have 
also  the  merit  of  having  avoided  the  selfish  system  ;  and 
of  having,  under  whatever  variety  of  representation, 
alike  maintained  the  disinterested  nature  of  the  social 
affections  and  the  supreme  authority  of  the  moral  senti¬ 
ments.  Brown  reared  the  standard  of  revolt  against  the 
masters  of  the  Scottish  School,  and  in  reality,  still  more 
than  in  words,  adopted  those  very  doctrines  against  which 
his  predecessors,  after  their  war  against  scepticism, 
uniformly  combated.  The  law’  of  association,  though 


270 


PROGRESS  OF 


expressed  in  other  language,  became  the  nearly  uni¬ 
versal  principle  of  his  system;  and  perhaps  it  would 
have  been  absolutely  universal  if  he  had  not  been  re¬ 
strained  rather  by  respectful  feelings  than  by  cogent  rea¬ 
sons.  With  him  the  love  of  speculative  philosophy,  as 
a  pursuit,  appears  to  have  expired  in  Scotland.  There 
are  some  symptoms,  yet  however  very  faint,  of  the  revival 
of  a  taste  for  it  among  the  English  youth.  It  was  re¬ 
ceived  with  approbation  in  France  from  M.  Royer  Col- 
lard,  the  scholar  of  Stewart  more  than  of  Reid,  and  with 
enthusiasm  from  his  pupil  and  successor  M.  Cousin,  who 
has  clothed  the  doctrines  of  the  Schools  of  Germany  in 
an  unwonted  eloquence,  which  always  adorns,  but  some¬ 
times  disguises  them. 

The  history  of  Political  Philosophy,  even  if  its  extent 
and  subdivisions  were  better  defined,  would,  it  is  mani¬ 
fest,  have  occupied  another  Dissertation,  at  least  equal  in 
length  to  the  present.  The  most  valuable  parts  of  it  be¬ 
long  to  Civil  History.  It  is  too  often  tainted  by  a  tur¬ 
bulent  and  factious  spirit  to  be  easily  combined  with 
the  calmer  history  of  the  progress  of  science,  or  even  of 
the  revolutions  of  speculation.  In  no  age  of  the  world 
were  its  principles  so  interwoven  with  political  events, 
and  so  deeply  imbued  with  the  passions  and  divisions  ex¬ 
cited  by  them;  as  in  the  eighteenth  century. 

It  was  at  one  time  the  purpose,  or  rather  perhaps  hope, 
of  the  writer,  to  close  this  discourse  by  an  account  of 
the  ethical  systems  which  have  prevailed  in  Germany 
during  the  last  half  century;  which,  maintaining  the  same 
spirit  amidst  great  changes  of  technical  language,  and 
even  of  speculative  principle,  have  now  exclusive  pos¬ 
session  of  Europe  to  the  north  of  the  Rhine,  have  been 
welcomed  by  the  French  youth  with  open  arms,  have 
roused  in  some  measure  the  languishing  genius  of  Italy, 
but  are  still  little  known  and  unjustly  estimated  by  the 
mere  English  reader.  He  found  himself,  however,  soon 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


271 


reduced  to  the  necessity  of  either  being  superficial,  and 
by  consequence  uninstructive  ;  or  of  devoting  to  that  sub¬ 
ject  a  far  longer  time  than  he  can  now  spare,  and  a  much 
larger  space  than  the  limits  of  this  work  would  probably 
allow.  The  majority  of  readers  will  indeed  be  more  dis¬ 
posed  to  require  an  excuse  for  the  extent  of  what  has 
been  done,  than  for  the  relinquishment  of  projected  addi¬ 
tions.  All  readers  must  agree  that  this  is  peculiarly  a  sub¬ 
ject  on  which  it  is  better  to  be  silent  than  to  say  too  little. 

A  very  few  observations,  however,  on  the  German 
Philosophy,  as  far  as  relates  to  its  ethical  bearings  and 
influence,  may  perhaps  be  pardoned.  These  remarks 
are  not  so  much  intended  to  be  applied  to  the  moral  doc¬ 
trines  of  that  school,  considered  in  themselves,  as  to 
those  apparent  defects  in  the  prevailing  systems  of  Ethics 
throughout  Europe,  which  seem  to  have  suggested  the 
necessity  of  their  adoption.  Kant  has  himself  acknow¬ 
ledged  that  his  whole  theory  of  the  percipient  and  intel¬ 
lectual  faculty  was  intended  to  protect  the  first  princi¬ 
ples  of  human  knowledge  against  the  assaults  of  Hume. 
In  like  manner,  his  ethical  system  is  evidently  framed 
for  the  purpose  of  guarding  certain  principles,  either 
directly  governing,  or  powerfully  affecting  practice, 
which  seemed  to  him  to  have  been  placed  on  unsafe  foun¬ 
dations  by  their  advocates,  and  which  were  involved  in 
perplexity  and  confusion,  especially  by  those  who  adopt¬ 
ed  the  results  of  various  and  sometimes  contradictory 
systems  to  the  taste  of  multitudes,  more  eager  to  know 
than  prepared  to  be  taught.  To  the  theoretical  reason 
he  superadded  the  practical  reason,  which  had  peculiar 
laws  and  principles  of  its  own,  from  which  all  the  rules 
of  morals  may  be  deduced.  The  practical  reason  cannot 
be  conceived  without  these  laws  5  therefore  they  are 
inherent.  It  perceives  them  to  be  necessary  and  univer¬ 
sal.  Hence,  by  a  process  not  altogether  dissimilar,  at 
least  in  its  gross  results,  to  that  which  was  employed  for 


272 


PROGRESS  OF 


the  like  purpose  by  Cudvvorth  and  Clarke,  by  Price,  and 
in  some  degree  by  Stewart,  be  raises  the  social  affections, 
and  still  more  the  moral  sentiments,  above  the  sphere  of 
enjoyment,  and  beyond  that  series  of  enjoyments  which 
is  called  happiness.  The  performance  of  duty,  not  the 
pursuit  of  happiness,  is  in  this  system  the  chief  end  of 
man.  By  the  same  intuition  we  discover  that  virtue  de¬ 
serves  happiness  ;  and  as  this  desert  is  not  uniformly  so 
requited  in  the  present  state  of  existence,  it  compels 
us  to  believe  a  moral  government  of  the  world,  and 
a  future  state  of  existence,  in  which  all  the  condi¬ 
tions  of  the  practical  reason  will  be  realized ; — truths, 
of  which,  in  the  opinion  of  Kant,  the  argumentative 
proofs  were  at  least  very  defective,  hut  of  which  the 
revelations  of  the  practical  reason  afforded  a  more  con¬ 
clusive  demonstration  than  any  process  of  reasoning 
could  supply.  The  understanding,  he  owned,  saw  no¬ 
thing  in  the  connection  of  motive  with  volition  different 
from  what  it  discovered  in  every  other  uniform  sequence 
of  a  cause  and  an  effect.  But  as  the  moral  law  deliver¬ 
ed  by  the  practical  reason  issues  peremptory  and  inflex¬ 
ible  commands,  the  power  of  always  obeying  them  is  im¬ 
plied  in  their  very  nature.  All  individual  objects,  all 
outward  things,  must  indeed  be  viewed  in  the  relation 
of  cause  and  effect.  They  are  necessary  conditions  of  all 
reasoning.  But  the  acts  of  the  faculty  which  wills ,  of 
which  we  are  immediately  conscious,  belong  to  another 
province  of  mind,  and  are  not  subject  to  these  laws  of 
the  theoretical  reason.  The  mere  intellect  must  still  re¬ 
gard  them  as  necessarily  connected  ;  but  the  practical 
reason  distinguishes  its  own  liberty  from  the  necessity  of 
nature,  conceives  volition  without  at  the  same  time  con¬ 
ceiving  an  antecedent  to  it,  and  regards  all  moral  beings 
as  the  original  authors  of  their  own  actions. 

Even  those  who  are  unacquainted  with  this  compli¬ 
cated  and  comprehensive  system,  will  at  once  see  the 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


273 


slightness  of  the  above  sketch.  Those  who  understand 
it;  will  own  that  so  brief  an  outline  could  not  be  other¬ 
wise  than  slight.  It  will;  however;  be  sufficient  for  the 
present  purpose,  if  it  render  what  follows  intelligible. 

With  respect  to  what  is  called  the  practical  reason, 
the  Kantian  system  varies  from  ours,  in  treating  it  as 
having  more  resemblance  to  the  intellectual  powers  than 
to  sentiment  and  emotion.  Enough  has  already  been 
said  on  that  question.  At  the  next  step,  however,  the 
difference  seems  to  resolve  itself  into  a  misunderstanding. 
The  character  and  dignity  of  the  human  race  surely  de¬ 
pend,  not  on  the  state  in  which  they  are  born,  but  on 
that  which  they  are  all  destined  to  attain  or  to  approach. 
No  man  would  hesitate  in  assenting  to  this  observation, 
when  applied  to  the  intellectual  faculties.  Thus,  the 
human  infant  comes  into  the  world  imbecile  and  ignorant; 
but  a  vast,  majority  acquire  some  vigour  of  reason  and 
extent  of  knowledge.  Strictly,  the  human  infant  is  born 
neither  selfish  nor  social ;  but  the  far  greater  part  ac¬ 
quire  some  provident  regard  to  their  own  welfare,  and 
a  number,  probably  not  much  smaller,  feel  some  sparks 
of  affection  towards  others.  On  our  principles,  there¬ 
fore,  as  much  as  on  those  of  Kant,  human  nature  is  capa¬ 
ble  of  disinterested  sentiments.  For  we  too  .allow  and 
contend  that  our  moral  faculty  is  a  necessary  part  of  hu¬ 
man  nature, — that  it  universally  exists  in  human  beings, 
— that  we  cannot  conceive  any  moral  agents  without 
qualities  which  are  either  like,  or  produce  the  like 
effects.  It  is  necessarily  regarded  by  us  as  co- extensive 
with  human,  and  even  with  moral  nature.  In  what 
other  sense  can  universality  be  predicated  of  any  propo¬ 
sition  not  identical?  Why  should  it  be  tacitly  assumed 
that  all  these  great  characteristics  of  conscience  should 
necessarily  presuppose  its  being  unformed  and  unde¬ 
rived?  What  contradiction  is  there  between  them  and 
the  theory  of  regular  and  uniform  formation? 

2  K 


274 


PROGRESS  OF 


In  this  instance  it  should  seem  that  a  general  assent  to 
truth  is  chiefly  if  not  solely  obstructed  by  an  inveterate 
prejudice,  arising  from  the  mode  in  which  the  questions 
relating  to  the  affections  and  the  moral  faculty  have  been 
discussed  among  ethical  philosophers.  Generally  speak¬ 
ing  those  who  contend  that  these  parts  of  the  mind  are 
acquired,  have  also  held  that  they  are,  in  their  perfect 
state,  no  more  than  modifications  of  self-love.  On  the 
other  hand,  philosophers  “  of  purer  fire,”  who  felt  that 
conscience  is  sovereign,  and  that  affection  is  disinterest¬ 
ed,  have  too  hastily  fancied  that  their  ground  was  un¬ 
tenable,  without  contending  that  these  qualities  were 
inherent  or  innate,  and  absolutely  underived  from  any 
other  properties  of  mind.  If  a  choice  were  necessary 
between  these  two  systems  as  masses  of  opinion,  without 
any  freedom  of  discrimination  and  selection,  I  should 
unquestionably  embrace  that  doctrine  which  places  in 
the  clearest  light  the  reality  of  benevolence  and  the  au¬ 
thority  of  the  moral  faculty.  But  it  is  surely  easy  to 
apply  a  test  which  may  be  applied  to  our  conceptions  as 
effectually  as  a  decisive  experiment  is  applied  to  material 
substances.  Does  not  he  who,  whatever  he  may  think 
of  the  origin  of  these  parts  of  human  nature,  believes 
that  actually  conscience  is  supreme,  and  affection  ter¬ 
minates  in  its  direct  object,  retain  all  that  for  which  the 
partisans  of  the  underived  principles  value  and  cling  to 
their  system?  “  But  they  are  made,”  these  philosophers 
may  say,  u  by  this  class  of  our  antagonists,  to  rest  on  in¬ 
secure  foundations.  Unless  they  are  underived,  we  can 
see  no  reason  for  regarding  them  as  independent.”  In 
answer,  it  may  be  asked,  how  is  the  connection  between 
these  two  qualities  established?  It  is  really  assumed.  It 
finds  its  way  easily  into  the  mind  under  the  protection 
of  another  coincidence,  which  is  of  a  totally  different 
nature.  The  great  majority  of  those  speculators  who 
have  represented  the  moral  and  social  feelings  as  ac- 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


275 


quired,  have  also  considered  them  as  being  mere  modi¬ 
fications  of  self-love,  and  sometimes  as  being  casually 
formed  and  easily  eradicated,  like  local  and  temporary 
prejudices.  But  when  the  nature  of  our  feelings  is 
thoroughly  explored,  is  it  not  evident  that  this  coinci¬ 
dence  is  the  result  of  superficial  confusion?  The  better 
moralists  observed  accurately,  and  reasoned  justly,  on 
the  province  of  the  moral  sense  and  the  feelings  in  the 
formed  and  mature  man.  They  reasoned  mistakenly  on 
the  origin  of  these  principles.  But  the  Epicureans 
were  by  no  means  right,  even  on  the  latter  question  ; 
and  they  were  totally  wrong  on  the  other  and  far  more 
momentous  part  of  the  subject.  Their  error  is  more 
extensive,  and  infinitely  more  injurious.  But  what 
should  now  hinder  an  inquirer  after  truth  from  embrac¬ 
ing  but  amending  their  doctrine  where  it  is  partially 
true,  and  adopting  without  any  change  the  just  descrip¬ 
tion  of  the  most  important  principles  of  human  nature 
which  we  owe  to  their  more  enlightened  as  well  as  more 
generous  antagonists  ? 

Though  unwilling  to  abandon  the  arguments  by  which, 
from  the  earliest  times,  the  existence  of  the  supreme  and 
eternal  mind  has  been  established,  we,  as  well  as  the 
German  philosophers,  are  entitled  to  call  in  the  help  of 
our  moral  nature  to  lighten  the  burden  of  those  tremen¬ 
dous  difficulties  which  cloud  his  moral  government.  The 
moral  nature  is  an  actual  part  of  man,  as  much  on  our 
scheme  as  on  theirs. 

Even  the  celebrated  question  of  Liberty  and  Neces¬ 
sity  may  perhaps  be  rendered  somewhat  less  perplexing, 
if  we  firmly  bear  in  mind  that  peculiar  relation  of  con¬ 
science  to  will  which  we  have  attempted  to  illustrate. 
It  is  impossible  for  reason  to  consider  occurrences  other¬ 
wise  than  as  bound  together  by  the  connection  of  cause 
and  effect ;  and  in  this  circumstance  consists  the  strength 
of  the  necessitarian  system.  But  conscience,  which  is 


276 


PROGRESS  OF 


equally  a  constituent  part  of  the  mind,  has  other  laws. 
It  is  composed  of  emotions  and  desires ,  which  contem¬ 
plate  only  those  dispositions  which  depend  on  the  will. 
Now,  it  is  the  nature  of  an  emotion  to  withdraw  the 
mind  from  the  contemplation  of  every  idea  but  that  of 
the  object  which  excites  it.  Every  desire  exclusively 
looks  at  the  object  which  it  seeks.  Every  attempt  to 
enlarge  the  mental  vision  alters  the  state  of  mind,  weak¬ 
ens  the  emotion  or  dissipates  the  desire,  and  tends  to 
extinguish  both.  If  a  man,  while  he  was  pleased  with 
the  smell  of  a  rose,  were  to  reflect  on  the  chemical  com¬ 
binations  from  which  it  arose,  the  condition  of  his  mind 
would  be  changed  from  an  enjoyment  of  the  senses  to  an 
exertion  of  the  understanding.  If,  in  the  view  of  a 
beautiful  scene,  a  man  were  suddenly  to  turn  his  thoughts 
to  the  disposition  of  water,  vegetables,  and  earths,  on 
which  its  appearance  depended,  he  might  enlarge  his 
knowledge  of  geology,  but  he  must  lose  the  pleasure  of 
the  prospect.  The  anatomy  and  analysis  of  the  flesh 
and  blood  of  a  beautiful  woman  necessarily  suspend 
admiration  and  affection.  Many  analogies  here  present 
themselves.  When  life  is  in  danger  either  in  a  storm 
or  a  battle,  it  is  certain  that  less  fear  is  felt  by  the  com¬ 
mander  or  the  pilot,  and  even  by  the  private  soldier 
actively  engaged,  or  the  common  seaman  laboriously 
occupied,  than  by  those  who  are  exposed  to  the  peril, 
but  not  employed  in  the  means  of  guarding  against  it. 
The  reason  is  not  that  the  one  class  believe  the  danger 
to  be  less.  They  are  likely  in  many  instances  to  per¬ 
ceive  it  more  clearly.  But  having  acquired  a  habit  of 
instantly  turning  their  thoughts  to  the  means  of  counter¬ 
acting  the  danger,  their  minds  are  thrown  into  a  state 
which  excludes  the  ascendency  of  fear.  Mental  forti¬ 
tude  entirely  depends  on  thijS  habit.  The  timid  horse¬ 
man  is  haunted  by  the  horrors  of  a  fall.  The  bold  and 
skilful  thinks  only  about  the  best  way  of  curbing  or 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


277 


supporting  his  horse.  Even  when  all  means  are  equally 
unavailable,  and  his  condition  appears  desperate  to  the  by¬ 
stander,,  he  still  owes  to  his  fortunate  habit  that  he  does 
not  suffer  the  agony  of  the  coward.  Many  cases  have 
been  known  where  fortitude  has  reached  such  strength 
that  the  faculties,  instead  of  being  confounded  by  danger, 
are  never  raised  to  their  highest  activity  by  a  less  violent 
stimulant.  The  distinction  between  such  men  and  the 
coward  does  not  depend  on  difference  of  opinion  about 
the  reality  or  extent  of  the  danger,  but  on  a  state  of  mind 
which  renders  it  more  or  less  accessible  to  fear.  Though 
it  must  be  owned  that  the  moral  sentiments  are  very  dif¬ 
ferent  from  any  other  human  faculty,  yet  the  above  ob¬ 
servations  seem  to  be  in  a  great  measure  applicable  to 
every  state  of  mind.  The  emotions  and  desires  which 
compose  conscience,  while  they  occupy  the  mind,  must 
exclude  all  contemplation  of  the  cause  in  which  the  object 
of  these  feelings  may  have  originated.  To  their  eye  the 
; voluntary  dispositions  and  actions ,  their  sole  object, 
must  appear  to  be  the  first  link  of  a  chain.  In  the  view 
of  conscience  they  have  no  foreign  original.  The  con¬ 
science  being  so  constantly  associated  with  all  volitions , 
its  view  becomes  habitual : — being  always  possessed  of 
some,  and  capable  of  intense  warmth,  it  predominates 
over  the  habits  of  thinking  of  those  few  who  are  employ¬ 
ed  in  the  analyses  of  mental  occupations.  The  reader 
who  has  in  any  degree  been  inclined  to  adopt  the  explana¬ 
tions  attempted  above,  of  the  imperative  character  of  con¬ 
science,  may  be  disposed  also  to  believe  that  they  afford 
some  foundation  for  that  conviction  of  the  existence  of  a 
power  to  obey  its  commands,  which  (it  ought  to  be  grant¬ 
ed  to  the  German  philosophers)  is  irresistibly  suggested 
by  the  commanding  tone  of  all  its  dictates.  If  such  an 
explanation  should  be  thought  worthy  of  consideration, 
it  must  be  very  carefully  distinguished  from  that  illusive 
sense  by  which  some  writers  have  laboured  to  reconcile 


278 


PROGRESS  OF 


the  feeling  of  liberty  with  the  reality  of  necessity.*  In 
this  case  there  is  no  illusion  ; — nothing  is  required  but 
the  admission,  that  every  faculty  observes  its  own  laws, 
and  that  when  the  action  of  the  one  fills  the  mind,  that 
of  every  other  is  suspended.  The  ear  cannot  see,  nor 
can  the  eye  hear.  Why  then  should  not  the  greater 
powers  of  reason  and  conscience  have  different  habitual 
modes  of  contemplating  voluntary  actions  ?  How  strong¬ 
ly  do  experience  and  analogy  seem  to  require  the  arrange¬ 
ment  of  motive  and  volition  under  the  class  of  causes  and 
effects  !  With  what  irresistible  power,  on  the  other  hand* 
do  all  our  moral  sentiments  remove  extrinsic  agency  from 
view,  and  concentrate  all  feeling  in  the  agent  himself! 
The  one  manner  of  thinking  may  predominate  among  the 
speculative  few  in  their  short  moments  of  abstraction  ; 
the  other  will  be  that  of  all  other  men,  and  of  the  specu¬ 
lator  himself  when  he  is  called  upon  to  ttct,  or  when  his 
feelings  are  powerfully  excited  by  the  amiable  or  odious 
dispositions  of  his  fellow-men.  In  these  workings  of 
various  faculties  there  is  nothing  that  can  be  accurately 
described  as  contrariety  of  opinion.  An  intellectual  state, 
and  a  feeling,  never  can  be  contrary  to  each  other.  They 
are  too  utterly  incapable  of  comparison  to  be  the  subject 
of  contrast.  They  are  agents  of  a  perfectly  different 
nature,  acting  in  different  spheres.  A  feeling  can  no 
more  be  called  true  or  false,  than  a  demonstration,  con¬ 
sidered  simply  in  itself,  can  be  said  to  be  agreeable  or 
disagreeable.  It  is  true,  indeed,  that  in  consequence  of 
the  association  of  all  mental  acts  with  each  other,  emo¬ 
tions  and  desires  may  occasion  habitual  errors  of  judg¬ 
ment  ; — but  liability  to  error  belongs  to  every  exercise 
of  human  reason  ;  it  arises  from  a  multitude  of  causes  ;  it 
constitutes,  therefore,  no  difficulty  peculiar  to  the  case 

•  Loud  Kames,  in  his  Essays  on  Morality  and  Natural  Religion,  and  in 
his  Sketches  of  the  History  of  Man. 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


279 


before  us.  Neither  truth  nor  falsehood  can  be  predi¬ 
cated  of  the  perceptions  of  the  senses,  but  they  lead  to 
false  opinions.  An  object  seen  through  different  medi¬ 
ums  may  by  the  inexperienced  be  thought  to  be  no 
longer  the  same.  All  men  long  concluded  falsely,  from 
what  they  saw,  that  the  earth  was  stationary,  and  the 
sun  in  perpetual  motion  around  it.  The  greater  part  of 
mankind  still  adopt  the  same  error.  Newton  and  Laplace 
used  the  same  language  with  the  ignorant,  and  conform¬ 
ed  (if  we  may  not  say  to  their  opinion)  at  least  to  their 
habits  of  thinking  on  all  ordinary  occasions,  and  during 
the  far  greater  part  of  their  lives.  Nor  is  this  all :  The 
language  which  represents  various  states  of  mind  is  very 
vague.  The  word  which  denotes  a  compound  state  is 
often  taken  from  its  principal  fact,  from  that  which  is 
most  conspicuous ,  most  easily  called  lo  mind ,  most  warm¬ 
ly  felt,  or  most  frequently  recurring.  It  is  sometimes 
borrowed  from  a  separate,  but,  as  it  were,  neighbour¬ 
ing  condition  of  mind.  The  grand  distinction  between 
thought  and  feeling  is  so  little  observed,  that  we  are  pecu¬ 
liarly  liable  to  confusion  on  this  subject.  Perhaps  when 
we  use  language  which  indicates  an  opinion  concerning 
the  acts  of  the  will,  we  may  mean  little  more  than  to 
express  strongly  and  warmly  the  moral  sentiments  which 
voluntary  acts  alone  call  up.  It  would  argue  disrespect 
for  the  human  understanding,  vainly  employed  for  so 
many  centuries  in  reconciling  contradictory  opinions,  to 
propose  such  suggestions  without  peculiar  diffidence; 
but  before  they  are  altogether  rejected,  it  may  be  well 
to  consider,  whether  the  constant  success  of  the  advo¬ 
cates  of  necessity  on  one  ground,  and  of  the  partisans  of 
free-will  on  another,  does  not  seem  to  indicate  that  the 
two  parties  contemplate  the  subject  from  different  points 
of  view,  that  neither  habitually  sees  more  than  one  side 
of  it,  and  that  they  look  at  it  through  the  medium  of 
different  states  of  mind. 


280 


PROGRESS  Gi¬ 


lt  should  be  remembered  that  these  hints  of  a  possible 
reconciliation  between  seemingly  repugnant  opinions  are 
proposed,  not  as  perfect  analogies,  but  to  lead  men’s 
minds  into  the  inquiry,  whether  that  which  certainly 
befalls  the  mind,  in  many  cases  on  a  small  scale,  may 
not,  under  circumstances  favourable  to  its  development, 
occur  with  greater  magnitude,  and  more  important  con¬ 
sequences.  The  coward  and  brave,  as  has  been  stated, 
act  differently  at  the  approach  of  danger,  because  it  pro¬ 
duces  exertion  in  the  one  and  fear  in  the  other.  But 
very  brave  men  must,  by  the  terms,  be  few.  They  have 
little  aid  in  their  highest  acts,  therefore,  from  fellow- 
feeling.  They  are  often  too  obscure  for  the  hope  of 
praise,  and  they  have  seldom  been  trained  to  cultivate 
courage  as  a  virtue.  The  very  reverse  occurs  in  the 
cliff erent  view  taken  by  understanding  and  by  conscience , 
of  the  nature  of  voluntary  actions.  The  conscientious 
view  must,  in  some  degree,  present  itself  to  all  mankind. 
It  is  therefore  unspeakably  strengthened  by  general  sym¬ 
pathy.  All  men  respect  themselves  for  being  habitually 
guided  by  it.  It  is  the  object  of  general  commendation  ; 
and  moral  discipline  has  no  other  aim  but  its  cultivation. 
Whoever  does  not  feel  more  pain  from  his  crimes  than 
from  his  misfortunes,  is  looked  on  with  general  aversion. 
And  when  it  is  considered  that  a  Being  of  perfect  wis¬ 
dom  and  goodness  estimates  us  according  to  the  degree 
in  which  conscience  governs  our  voluntary  acts,  it  is 
surely  no  wonder  that,  in  this  most  important  discrepancy 
between  the  great  faculties  of  our  nature,  we  should  con¬ 
sider  the  best  habitual  disposition  to  be  that  which  the 
coldest  reason  shows  us  to  be  most  conducive  to  well¬ 
doing  and  wellbeing. 

On  every  other  point,  at  least,  it  should  seem  that, 
without  the  multiplied  suppositions  and  immense  appa¬ 
ratus  of  the  German  School,  the  authority  of  morality 
may  be  vindicated,  the  disinterestedness  of  human  nature 


281 


ETHICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

asserted^  the  first  principles  of  knowledge  secured,  and 
the  hopes  and  consolations  of  mankind  preserved.  Ages 
may  yet  be  necessary  to  give  to  ethical  theory  all  the 
forms  and  language  of  science,  and  to  apply  it  to  the 
multiplied  and  complicated  facts  and  rules  which  are 
within  its  province.  In  the  mean  time,  if  any  statement 
of  the  opinions  here  unfolded  or  intimated  shall  be  proved 
to  be  at  variance  with  the  reality  of  social  affections,  and 
with  the  feeling  of  moral  distinction,  the  author  of  this 
Dissertation  will  be  the  first  to  relinquish  a  theory  which 
will  then  show  itself  inadequate  to  explain  the  most  indis¬ 
putable,  as  well  as  by  far  the  most  important,  parts  of 
human  nature.  If  it  shall  be  shown  to  lower  the  cha¬ 
racter  of  man,  to  cloud  his  hopes,  or  to  impair  the  sense 
of  duty,  he  will  be  grateful  to  those  who  may  point  out 
his  error,  and  deliver  him  from  the  poignant  regret  of 
adopting  opinions  which  lead  to  consequences  so  per¬ 
nicious. 


2  L 


.  ..  , 

.  «• 


•  •  *ii  ! 

- 

•*  V  1 


. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Note  A,  p.  30. 

The  remarks  of  Cicero  on  the  Stoicism  of  Cato  are  perhaps  the 
most  perfect  specimen  of  that  refined  raillery  which  attains  the 
object  of  the  orator  without  general  injustice  to  the  person  whose 
authority  is  for  the  moment  to  be  abated. 

“  Accessit  his  doctrina  non  moderata,  nec  mitis,  sed,  ut  mihi 
videtur,  paulo  asperior  et  durior  quam  aut  veritas  aut  natura 
patiatur.”  After  an  enumeration  of  the  Stoical  paradoxes,  he 
adds :  “  Hsec  homo  ingeniosissimus  M.  Cato  arripuit,  neque  dispu- 
tandi  causa,  ut  magna  pars,  sed  ita  vivendi.  Nostri  autem  illi 
(fatebor  enim  me  quoque  in  adolescentia  diffisum  ingenio  meo 
quaesisse  adjumenta  doctrinae)  nostri,  inquam,  illi  a  Platone  atque 
Aristotele  moderati  homines  et  temperati  aiunt  apud  sapientem 

valere  aliquando  gratium;  viri  boni  esse  misereri ; . omnes 

virtutes  mediocritate  quadam  moderatas.  Hos  ad  magistros  si  qua 
te  fortuna,  Cato,  cum  ista  natura  detulisset,  non  tu  quidem  vir 
melior  esses,  nec  fortior,  nec  temperantior,  nec  justior  (neque  enim 
esse  posses),  sed  paulo  ad  lenitatem  propensior.”  (Cicero  pro 
Murena. ) 

Note  B,  p.  37. 

The  greater  part  of  the  following  extract  from  Grotius’s  History 
of  the  Netherlands  is  inserted  as  the  best  abridgement  of  the 
ancient  history  of  these  still  subsisting  controversies  known  in  our 
time.  I  extract  also  the  introduction  as  a  model  of  the  manner  in 
which  an  historian  may  state  a  religious  dispute  which  has  influenced 
political  affairs;  but  far  more  because  it  is  an  unparalleled  example 
of  equity  and  forbearance  in  the  narrative  of  a  contest  of  which  the 
historian  was  himself  a  victim. 

“  Habuit  hie  annus  (1608)  haud  spernendi  quoque  mali  semina, 
vix  ut  arma  desierant,  exorto  publiese  religionis  dissidio,  latentibus 
initiis,  sed  ut  paulatim  in  majus  erumperet.  Lugduni  sacras  literas 


284 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


docebant  viri  eruditione  prsestantes  Gomarus  et  Arminius,  quorum 
ille  seterna  Dei  lege  fixum  memorabat,  cui  hominum  salus  destina- 
retur,  quis  in  exitium  tenderet;  inde  alios  ad  pietatem  trahi,  et 
tractos  custodiri  ne  elabantur;  relinqui  alios  communi  bumanitatis 
vitio  et  suis  criminibus  involutos:  hie  vero  contra  integrum  judicem, 
sed  eundem  optimum  patrem,  id  reorum  fecisse  discrimen,  ut 
peccandi  pertassis  fiduciamque  in  Christum  reponentibus  veniam  ac 
vitam  daret,  contumacibus  pcenam;  Deoque  gratum,  ut  omnes 
resipiscant,  ac  meliora  edocti  retineant;  sed  cogi  neminem.  Accusa- 
bantque  invicem;  Arminius  Gomarum,  quod  peccandi  causas  Deo 
ascriberet,  ac  fati  persuasione  teneret  immobiles  animos;  Gomarus 
Arminium,  quod  longius  ipsis  Roinanensium  scitis  hominem  arro- 
gantia  impleret,  neepateretur  soli  Deo  acceptamferri,  rem  maximam , 
bonarn  mentem.  Constat  his  queis  cura  legere  veterum  libros, 
antiquos  Christianorum  tribuisse  hominum  voluntati  vim  liberam, 
tarn  in  acceptanda,  quam  in  retinenda  disciplina;  unde  sua  praemiis 
ac  suppliciis  aequitas.  Neque  iidem  tamen  omisere  cuncta  divinam 
ad  bonitatem  referre,  cujus  munere  salutare  semen  ad  nos  perve- 
nisset,  ac  cujus  singulari  auxilio  pericula  nostra  indigerent.  Primus 
omnium  Augustinus,  ex  quo  ipsi  cum  Pelagio  et  eum  secutis 
certamen  (nam  ante  aliter  et  ipse  senserat ),  acer  disputandi,  ita 
libertatis  vocem  relinquere,  ut  ei  decreta  quaedam  Dei  praeponeret, 
quae  vim  ipsam  destruere  viderentur.  At  per  Grasciam  quidem 
Asiamque  retenta  vetus  ilia  ac  simplicior  sententia.  Per  occidentem 
magnum  Augustini  nomen  multos  traxit  in  consensum,  repertis 
tamen  per  Galliam  et  alibi  qui  se  opponerent.  Posterioribus 
saeculis,  cum  schola  non  alio  magis  quam  Augustino  doctore 
uteretur,  quis  ipsi  sensus,  quis  dexter  pugnare  visa  conciliandi 
modus,  diu  inter  Francisci  et  Dominici  familiam  disputato,  doctis- 
simi  Jesuitarum,  cum  exactiori  subtilitate  nodum  solvere  laborassent, 
Romas  accusati  aegre  damnationem  effugere.  At  Protestantium 
princeps,  Lutherus,  egressus  monasterio  quod  Augustini  ut  nomen, 
ita  sensus  sequebatur,  parte  Augustini  arrepta,  id  quod  is  reliquerat, 
libertatis  nomen,  ccepit  exscindere;  quod  tarn  grave  Erasmo  visum, 
ut  cum  eastern  ipsius  aut  probaret  aut  silentio  transmitteret,  hie 
objiciat  sese:  cujus  arguments  motus  Philippus  Melanchthon,  Lutheri 
adjutor,  quae  prius  scripserat  immutavit,  auctorque  fuit  Luthero, 
quod  multi  volunt,  certe  quod  constat  Lutheranis,  deserendi  decreta 
rigida  et  conditionem  respuentia;  sic  tamen  ut  libertatis  vocabulum 
quam  rem  magis  pcrhorrescerent.  At  in  altera  Protestantium 
parte  dux  Calvinus,  primis  Lutheri  dictis  in  hac  controversia  inhse- 
rescens,  novis  ea  fulsit  praesidiis,  addiditque  intactum  Augustino , 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


285 


veram  ac  salutarem  fidcm  rem  esse  pcrpctuam  et  amitti  nesciam: 
cujus  proinde  qui  sibi  essent  conscii,  eos  ®tern®  felicitatis  jam 
nunc  certos  esse,  quos  interim  in  crimina,  quantumvis  gravia, 
prolabi  posse  non  diffitebatur.  Auxit  sententi®  rigorem  Genev® 
Beza,  per  Germaniam  Zanchius,  Ursinus,  Piscator,  s®pe  eo  usque 
provecti,  ut,  quod  alii  anxie  vitaverant,  apertius  nonnunquam  trade- 
rent,  etiam  peccandi  necessitatem  a  prima  causa  pendere:  qu® 
ampla  Lutheranis  criminandi  materia.”  (H.  Grotii  Hist.  lib.  xvii. 
p.  552.) 

Note  C,  p.  38. 

The  Calvinism,  or  rather  Augustinianism,  of  Aquinas,  is  placed 
beyond  all  doubt  by  the  following  passages : — “  Pr®destinatio  est 
causa  grati®  et  glori®.”  (Opera,  VII.  356,  edit.  Paris.  1664.) 

“  Numerus  pr®destinatorum  certus  est.”  (Ibid.  363.) 

“  Pr®scientia  meritorum  nullo  modo  est  causa  pr®destinationis 
divin®.”  (Ibid.  370.) 

“  Liberum  arbitrium  est  facultas  qua  bonum  eligitur,  gratia 
assistente,  vel  malum,  eadem  desistente.”  (Ibid.  VIII.  222.) 

“  Deus  inclinat  ad  bonum  administrando  virtutein  agendi  et 
monendo  ad  bonum.  Sed  ad  malum  dicitur  inclinare  in  quantum 
gratiam  non  pr®bet,  per  quam  aliquis  a  malo  retraheretur.” 
(Ibid.  364.) 

On  the  other  side: 

“  Accipitur  fules  pro  eo  quo  creditur,  et  est  virtus,  et  pro  eo 
quod  creditur,  et  non  est  virtus.  Fides  qua  creditur,  si  cum  caritate 
sit,  virtus  est.”  (Ibid.  IX.  236.) 

“  Divina  bonitas  est  primum  principium  communicationis  totius 
quam  Deus  creaturis  largitur.” 

“  Quamvis  omne  quod  Deus  vult  justum  sit,  non  tamen  ex  hoc 
justum  dicitur  quod  Deus  illud  vult.”  (Ibid.  697.) 

Note  D,  p.  39. 

The  Augustinian  doctrine  is,  with  some  hesitation  and  reluctance, 
acquiesced  in  by  Scotus,  in  that  milder  form  which  ascribes  election 
to  an  express  decree,  and  considers  the  rest  of  mankind  as  only 
left  to  the  deserved  penalties  of  their  transgressions.  uIn  hujus 
qu®stionis  solutione  mallem  alios  audire  quam  docere.”  (Scoti 
Opera,  V.  1328.  Lugd.  1639.)  This  modesty  and  prudence  is 
foreign  from  the  dogmatical  genius  of  a  Schoolman;  and  these 
qualities  are  still  more  apparent  in  the  very  remarkable  language 


286 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


which  he  applies  to  the  tremendous  doctrine  of  reprobation.  “Eorum 
autem  non  miseretur  (scil.  Deus)  quibus  gratiam  non  prcebendam 
esse  sequitate  occultissima  et  ab  humanis  sensibus  remotissima  judi- 
cat.”  ( Ibid .  1329.)  In  the  commentary  on  Scotus  which  follows, 
it  appears  that  his  acute  disciple  Ockham  disputed  very  freely 
against  the  opinions  of  his  master.  “  Mala  Jieri  bonum  est ”  is  a 
startling  paradox,  quoted  by  Scotus  from  Augustin.  (Ibid.  1381.) 
It  appears  that  Ockham  saw  no  difference  between  election  and 
reprobation,  and  considered  those  who  embraced  only  the  former  as 
at  variance  with  themselves.  (Ibid.  1313.) 

Scotus,  at  great  length,  contends  that  our  thoughts  (consequently 
our  opinions)  are  not  subject  to  the  will.  (VI.  1054 — 1056.)  One 
step  more  would  have  led  him  to  acknowledge  that  all  erroneous 
judgment  is  involuntary,  and  therefore  inculpable  and  unpunishable, 
however  pernicious. 

His  attempt  to  reconcile  foreknowledge  with  contingency  (V. 
1300 — 1327),  is  a  remarkable  example  of  the  power  of  human 
subtlety  to  keep  up  the  appearance  of  a  struggle  where  it  is  impos¬ 
sible  to  make  one  real  effort. 

But  the  most  dangerous  of  all  the  deviations  of  Scotus  from  the 
system  of  Aquinas  is,  that  he  opened  the  way  to  the  opinion  that 
the  distinction  of  right  and  wrong  depends  on  the  mere  will  of  the 
Eternal  Mind.  The  absolute  power  of  the  Deity,  according  to 
him,  extends  to  all  but  contradictions.  His  regular  power  ( ordinata ) 
is  exercised  conformably  to  an  order  established  by  himself;  “si 
tlacet  voluntati,  sub  qua  libera  est,  recta  est  lex.”  (Scot.  V. 
1368,  et  seq.) 

Note  E,  p.  39. 

A X\et  /khv  7*  **ov<rttv  ttclo-ulv  5 rciv  ctyvoovtrccr. 

(Plat.  Soph.  edit.  Bip.  II.  224.) 

Uito-xv  xKovtriov  ct/uitQictv  tivtti.  (Ibid.  22 7.) 

Plato  is  quoted  on  this  subject  by  Marcus  Aurelius,  in  a  manner 
which  shows,  if  there  had  been  any  doubt,  the  meaning  to  be,  that 
all  error  is  involuntary. 

Tletsra.  4t/^»  ukovo-o.,  quo-iv  (nAst-rccv),  a-Ti^tTeu  xXmQuxc. 

Every  mind  is  unwillingly  led  from  truth. 

(Epict.  lib.  i.  cap.  xxviii.) 

Augustin  closes  the  long  line  of  ancient  testimony  to  the  involun¬ 
tary  character  of  error:  “  Quis  est  qui  velit  decipi?  Fallere  nolunt 
boni;  falli  autem  nec  boni  volunt  nec  mali.”  (Auo.  Serm.  de 
Verbo.) 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


287 


Note  F,  p.  39. 

From  a  long,  able,  and  instructive  dissertation  by  the  commen¬ 
tator  on  Scotus,  it  appears  that  this  immoral  dogma  was  propounded 
in  terms  more  bold  and  startling  by  Ockham,  who  openly  affirmed, 
that  “moral  evil  was  only  evil  because  it  was  prohibited.”  “  Oc- 
hamus,  quiputatquod  nihil  posset  esse  malum  sine  voluntate  prohi- 
bitiva  Dei,  hancque  voluntatem  esse  liberam;  sic  ut  posset  earn  non 
habere,  et  consequenter  ut  posset  fieri  quod  nulla  prorsus  essent 
mala.”  (Scot.  VII.  p.  859.)  But,  says  the  commentator,  “  Dico 
primo  legem  naturalem  non  consistere  in  jussione  ulla  quse  sit  actus 
voluntatis  Dei.  Hsec  est  communissima  theologovum  sententia.” 
(Scot.  VII.  p.  858.)  And  indeed  the  reason  urged  against  Ock¬ 
ham  completely  justifies  this  approach  to  unanimity.  “  For,”  he 
asks,  “  why  is  it  right  to  obey  the  will  of  God  ?  Is  it  because  our 
moral  faculties  perceive  it  to  be  right?  But  they  equally  perceive  and 
feel  the  authority  of  all  the  primary  principles  of  morality;  and  if 
this  answer  be  made,  it  is  obvious  that  those  who  make  it  do  in  effect 
admit  the  independence  of  moral  distinctions  on  the  will  of  God.” 

“If  God,”  said  Ockham,  “  had  commanded  his  creatures  to  hate 
himself,  hatred  of  God  would  have  been  praiseworthy.”  (Domin. 
Soto  de  Justitia  et  Jure,  lib.  ii.  quaest.  3,  “  Utrum  prascepta  Deca - 
logi  sint  dispensabilia a  book  dedicated  to  Don  Carlos,  the  son 
of  Philip  II.)  Suarez,  the  last  scholastic  philosopher,  rejected  the 
Ockhamical  doctrine,  but  allowed  will  to  be  a  part  of  the  founda¬ 
tion  of  morality.  “Voluntas  Dei  non  est  tota  ratio  bonitatis  aut 
malitiae.”  (Suarez  de  Legibus,  lib.  ii.  66,  p.  71.  edit.  Lond.  1679.) 

As  the  great  majority  of  the  Schoolmen  supported  their  opinion 
of  this  subject  by  the  consideration  of  eternal  and  immutable  ideas 
of  right  and  wrong  in  the  divine  intellect,  it  was  natural  that  the 
Nominalists,  of  whom  Ockham  was  the  founder,  who  rejected  all 
general  ideas,  should  also  have  rejected  those  moral  distinctions 
which  were  then  supposed  to  originate  in  such  ideas.  Gerson  was 
a  celebrated  Nominalist;  and  he  was  the  more  disposed  to  follow 
the  opinions  of  his  master,  because  they  agreed  in  maintaining  the 
independence  of  the  State  on  the  Church,  and  the  superiority  of 
the  Church  over  the  Pope. 

Note  G,  p.  4 1.  . 

It  must  be  premised  that  Charitas  among  the  ancient  divines 
corresponded  with  Eg®?  of  the  Platonists,  and  with  the  Qtxi*  of  later 
philosophers,  as  comprehending  the  love  of  all  that  is  loveworthy  in 


288 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


the  Creator  or  his  creatures.  It  is  the  theological  virtue  of  charity, 
and  corresponds  with  no  term  in  use  among  modern  moralists. 
«  Cum  objectum  amoris  sit  bonum,  dupliciter  potest  aliquis  ten* 
dere  in  bonum  alicujus  rei;  uno  modo,  quod  bonum  illius  rei  ad 
alterum  referat,  sicut  amat  quis  vinum  in  quantum  dulcedinem  vini 
peroptat;  et  hie  amor  vocatur  a  quibusdam  amor  concupiscentiae. 
Amor  autem  iste  non  terminatin'  ad  rem  quse  dicitnr  amari ,  sed  refiec- 
titur  ad  rem  illam  cui  optatur  bonum  illius  rei.  Alio  modo  amor  fortior 
in  bonum  alicujus  rei,  ita  quod  ad  rem  ipsam  terminatur;  et  hie 
est  amor  benevolentias.  Qua  bonum  nostrum  in  Deo  perfectum 
est,  sicut  in  causa  universali  bonorum;  ideo  bonum  in  ipso  esse 
magis  naturaliter  complacet  quam  in  nobis  ipsis:  et  ideo  etiam  amore 
amicitiae  naturaliter  Dcus  ab  homine  plus  seipso  diligitur.” 

The  above  quotations  from  Aquinas  will  probably  be  sufficient  for 
those  who  are  acquainted  with  these  questions,  and  they  will  cer¬ 
tainly  be  thought  too  large  by  those  who  are  not.  In  the  next  ques¬ 
tion  he  inquires,  whether  in  the  love  of  God  there  can  be  any  view  to 
reward.  He  appears  to  consider  himself  as  bound  by  authority  to 
answer  in  the  affirmative;  and  he  employs  much  ingenuity  in  recon¬ 
ciling  a  certain  expectation  of  reward  with  the  disinterested  charac¬ 
ter  ascribed  by  him  to  piety  in  common  with  all  the  affections  which 
terminate  in  other  beings.  “  Nihil  aliud  est  merces  nostra  quam 
perfrui  Deo.  Ergo  charitas  non  solum  non  excludit,  sed  etiam 
facit  habere  oculum  ad  mercedem.”  In  this  answer  he  seems  to 
have  anticipated  the  representations  of  Jeremy  Taylor  ( Sermon  on 
Growth  in  Grace );  of  Lord  Shaftesbury  ( Inquiry  concerning  Virtue , 
book  i.  part  iii.  sect.  3);  of  Mr  T.  Erskine  ( Freeness  of  the  Gospel , 
Edinb.  1828);  and  more  especially  of  Mr  John  Smith  ( Discourses , 
Lond.  1660).  No  extracts  could  convey  a  just  conception  of  the 
observations  which  follow,  unless  they  were  accompanied  by  a 
longer  examination  of  the  technical  language  of  the  Schoolmen 
than  would  be  warranted  on  this  occasion.  It  is  clear  that  he  dis¬ 
tinguishes  well  the  affection  of  piety  from  the  happy  fruits,  which, 
as  he  cautiously  expresses  it,  “  are  in  tire  nature  of  a  reward,”  just  as 
the  consideration  of  the  pleasures  and  advantages  of  friendship  may 
enter  into  the  affection  and  strengthen  it,  though  they  are  not  its 
objects,  and  never  could  inspire  such  a  feeling.  It  seems  to  me 
also  that  he  had  a  dimmer  view  of  another  doctrine,  by  which  we 
are  taught,  that  though  our  own  happiness  be  not  the  end  which 
we  pursue  in  loving  others,  yet  it  may  be  the  final  cause  of  the 
insertion  of  disinterested  affections  into  the  nature  of  man.  “  Po- 
nere  mercedem  aliquam  finem  amoris  ex  parte  amati,  est  contra 


inot.es  and  illustrations. 


289 


rationem  amicitias.  Sed  ponere  mercedem  esse  finem  amoris  ex 
parte  amantis,  non  tamen  ultimum,  prout  scilicet  ipse  amor  est 
quasdam  operatio  amantis,  non  est.  contra  rationem  amicitias.  Pos¬ 
sum  operationem  amoris  amare  propter  aliquid  aliud,  salva  amicitia. 
Potest  habeas  charitatem  habere  oculum  ad  mercedem ,  uti  ponat 
beatitudinem  creatam jinem  amoris ,  non  autem  finem  amati .”  Upon 
the  last  words  my  interpretation  chiefly  depends.  The  immediately 
preceding  sentence  must  be  owned  to  have  been  founded  on  a  dis¬ 
tinction  between  viewing  the  good  fruits  of  our  own  affections  as 
enhancing  their  intrinsic  pleasures,  and  feeling  love  for  another  on 
account  of  the  advantage  to  be  derived  from  him;  which  last  is 
inconceivable. 

Note  II,  p.  41. 

“  Potestas  spirituals  et  secularis  utraque  deducitur  a  potestate 
divina;  ideo  in  tantum  secularis  est  sub  spiritual i,  in  quantum  est  a 
Deo  supposita;  scilicet,  in  his  quae  ad  salutem  animae  pertinent.  In 
his  autem  quae  ad  bonum  civile  speetant,  est  magis  obediendurn 
potestati  seculari;  sicut  illud  Matthaei,  1  Reddite  quae  sunt  Cossaris 
Caesari.’  ”  What  follows  is  more  doubtful.  “  Nisi  forte  potestati 
spirituali  etiam  potestas  secularis  conjungatur,  ut  in  Papa,  qui  utri- 
usque  potestatis  apicem  tenet.”  (VIII.  435.)  Here,  says  the 
French  editor,  it  may  be  doubted  whether  Aquinas  means  the  Pope’s 
temporal  power  in  his  own  dominions,  or  a  secular  authority  indi¬ 
rectly  extending  over  all  for  the  sake  of  religion.  My  reasons  for 
adopting  the  more  rational  construction  are  shortly  these: — 1.  The 
text  of  Matthew  is  so  plain  an  assertion  of  the  independence  of  both 
powers,  that  it  would  be  the  height  of  extravagance  to  quote  it  as 
an  authority  for  the  dependence  of  the  state.  At  most  it  could  only 
be  represented  as  reconcilable  with  such  a  dependence  in  one  case. 
2.  The  word  forte  seems  manifestly  to  refer  to  the  territorial  sove¬ 
reignty  acquired  by  the  Popes.  If  they  have  a  general  power  in 
secular  affairs,  it  must  be  because  it  is  necessary  to  their  spiritual 
authority;  and  in  that  case  to  call  it  fortuitous  would  be  to  ascribe 
to  it  an  adjunct  destructive  of  its  nature.  3.  His  former  reasoning 
on  the  same  question  seems  to  be  decisive.  The  power  of  the  Pope 
over  bishops,  he  says,  is  not  founded  merely  in  his  superior  nature, 
but  in  their  authority  being  altogether  derived  from  his,  as  the  pro¬ 
consular  power  from  the  imperial.  Therefore  he  infers  that  this 
case  is  not  analogous  to  the  relation  between  the  civil  and  spiritual 
power,  which  are  alike  derived  from  God.  4.  Had  an  Italian  monk 
2  M 


290 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


of  the  twelfth  century  really  intended  to  affirm  the  Pope’s  temporal 
authority,  he  probably  would  have  laid  it  down  in  terms  more  explicit 
and  more  acceptable  at  Rome.  Hesitation  and  ambiguity  are  here 
indications  of  unbelief.  Mere  veneration  for  the  apostolical  see 
might  present  a  more  precise  determination  against  it,  as  it  caused 
the  quotation  which  follows,  respecting  the  primacy  of  Peter.  (Aquin. 
Opera ,  VIII.  434,  435.) 

A  mere  abridgement  of  these  very  curious  passages  might  excite 
a  suspicion  that  I  had  tinctured  Aquinas  unconsciously  with  a  colour 
of  my  own  opinions.  Extracts  are  very  difficult,  from  the  scho¬ 
lastic  method  of  stating  objections  and  answers,  as  well  as  from  the 
mixture  of  theological  authorities  with  philosophical  reasons. 

Note  I,  p.  44. 

The  debates  in  the  first  assembly  of  the  Council  of  Trent  (1546), 
between  the  Dominicans  who  adhered  to  Aquinas,  and  the  Fran¬ 
ciscans  who  followed  Scotus  on  original  sin,  justification,  and  grace, 
are  to  be  found  in  Fra  Paolo,  Istoria  del  Concilio  Tridentino,  lib. 
ii.  They  show  how  much  metaphysical  controversy  is  hid  in  a  theo¬ 
logical  form,  how  many  disputes  of  our  times  are  of  no  very  ancient 
origin,  and  how  strongly  the  whole  western  church,  through  all  the 
divisions  into  which  it  has  been  separated,  has  manifested  the  same 
unwillingness  to  avow  the  Augustinian  system,  and  the  same  fear 
of  contradicting  it.  To  his  admirably  clear  and  short  statement  of 
these  abstruse  controversies,  must  be  added  that  of  his  accomplished 
opponent  Cardinal  Pallavicino  (lib.  vii.  and  viii.),  who  shows  still 
more  evidently  the  strength  of  the  Augustinian  party,  and  the  dispo¬ 
sition  of  the  Council  to  tolerate  opinions  almost  Lutheran,  if  not 
accompanied  by  revolt  from  the  Church.  A  little  more  comprom¬ 
ising  disposition  in  the  Reformers  might  have  betrayed  reason  to  a 
prolonged  thraldom.  We  must  esteem  Erasmus  and  Melanchthon, 
but  we  should  reserve  our  gratitude  for  Luther  and  Calvin.  The 
^cotists  maintained  their  doctrine  of  merit  of  congruity,  waived  by 
the  Council,  and  soon  after  condemned  by  the  Church  of  England; 
by  which  they  meant  that  they  who  had  good  dispositions  always 
received  the  divine  grace,  not  indeed  as  a  reward  of  which  they 
were  worthy,  but  as  aid  which  they  were  fit  and  willing  to  receive. 
The  Franciscans  denied  that  belief  was  in  the  power  of  man.  “  I 
Francescani  lo  negavano  seguendo  Scoto,  qual  vuole  che  siccome 
dalle  dimostrazioni  per  necessity  nasce  la  scienza,  cosi  dalle  per- 
suasioni  nasca  la  fede;  e  ch’essa  e  nell’  intelletto,  il  quale  6  agente 
naturale,  e  mosso  naturalmente  dall’  oggetto.  Allegavano  l’esperi- 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


291 


enza,  che  nessuno  puo  credere  che  vuole,  ma  quello  che  gli  par 
vero.”  (Fra  Paolo,  Istoria  del  Concilio  Tridentino ,  1.  193.  edit. 
Helmstadt,  1763,  4to.) 

Cardinal  Sforza  Pallavicino,  a  learned  and  very  able  Jesuit,  was 
appointed,  according  to  his  own  account,  in  1651,  many  years  after 
the  death  of  Fra  Paolo,  to  write  a  true  history  of  the  Council  of 
Trent,  as  a  corrective  of  the  misrepresentations  of  the  celebrated 
Venetian.  Algernon  Sidney,  who  knew  this  court  historian  at 
Rome,  and  who  may  be  believed  when  he  speaks  well  of  a  Jesuit 
and  a  Cardinal,  commends  the  work  in  a  letter  to  his  father,  Lord 
Leicester.  At  the  end  of  Pallavicino’s  work  is  a  list  of  three  hun¬ 
dred  and  sixty  errors  in  matters  of  fact,  which  the  Papal  party  pre¬ 
tend  to  have  detected  in  the  independent  historian,  whom  they 
charge  with  heresy  or  infidelity,  and,  in  either  case,  with  hypocrisy. 

Note  K,  p.  49. 

“  Hoc  tempore,  Ferdinando  et  Isabella  regnantibus,  in  academia 
Salmantina  jacta  sunt  robustioris  theologife  semina;  ingentis  enim 
famas  vir  Franciscus  de  Victoria,  non  tarn  lucubrationibus  editis, 
quamvis  haec  non  magnae  molis  at  magni  pretii  sint,  sed  doctissimo- 
rum  theologorum  educatione,  quamdiu  fuerit  sacrae  scientiie  honos 
inter  mortales,  vehementer  laudabitur.”  (Antonii  Bibl.  Hisp. 
Nova ,  Praef.  iv.  Madrid,  1783.)  “  Si  ad  morum  instructors  res- 

picias,  Sotus  iterum  nominabitur.”  (Ibid.) 

Note  L,  p.  50. 

The  title  of  the  published  account  of  the  conference  at  Valladolid 
is,  “  The  controversy  between  the  Bishop  of  Chiapa  and  Dr  Sepul¬ 
veda;  in  which  the  Doctor  contended  that  the  conquest  of  the  Indies 
from  the  natives  was  lawful,  and  the  Bishop  maintained  that  it  was 
unlawful,  tyrannical,  and  unjust,  in  the  presence  of  many  theologians, 
lawyers,  and  other  learned  men  assembled  by  his  Majesty.”  (An¬ 
tonii  Bibl.  Hisp.  Nova ,  tom.  i.  p.  192.) 

Las  Casas  died  in  1566,  in  the  92d  year  of  his  age;  Sepulveda 
died  in  1571,  in  his  82d  year. 

Sepulveda  was  the  scholar  of  Pomponatius,  and  a  friend  of  Eras¬ 
mus,  Cardinal  Pole,  Aldus  Manutius,  &c.  In  his  book  De  Justis 
Belli  Causis  contra  Tndos  suscepti,  he  contended  only  that  the  king 
might  justly  “  ad  ditionem  Indos,  non  herilem  sed  regiam  et  civilem, 
lege  belli  redigere,”  (Antonius  in  voce  Sepulveda:  Bibl.  Hisp. 
Nova ,  tom.  i.  p.  703.) 


292 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


But  this  smooth  and  specious  language  covered  a  poison.  Had 
it  entirely  prevailed,  the  cruel  consequence  of  the  defeat  of  the  ad¬ 
vocate  of  the  oppressed  would  alone  have  remained;  the  limitations 
and  softenings  employed  by  their  opponent  to  obtain  success  would 
have  been  speedily  disregarded  and  forgotten. 

Covarruvias,  another  eminent  Jurist,  was  sent  by  Philip  II.  to  the 
Council  of  Trent,  at  its  renewal  in  1560,  and,  with  Cardinal  Buon- 
campagni,  drew  up  the  decrees  of  reformation.  Francis  Sanchez, 
the  father  of  philosophical  grammar,  published  his  Minerva  at  Sala¬ 
manca  in  1587;  so  active  was  the  cultivation  of  philosophy  in  Spain 
in  the  age  of  Cervantes. 

Note  M,  p.  79. 

u  Alors  en  repassant  dans  mon  esprit  les  diverses  opinions  qui 
m’avoient  tour-a-tour  entraine  depuis  ma  naissance,  jevis  que  bien 
qu’aucune  d’elles  ne  fut  assez  evidente  pour  produire  immediatement 
la  conviction,  elles  avoient  divers  degres  de  vraisemblance,  et  que  l’as- 
sentiment  interieur  s’y  pretoit  ou  s’y  refusoit  a  differentes  mesures. 
Sur  cette  premiere  observation,  comparent  entr’  elles  toutes  ces  diffe¬ 
rentes  idees  dans  le  silence  des  prejuges,  je  trouvai  que  la  pre¬ 
miere,  et  la  plus  commune,  etoit  aussi  la  plus  simple  et  la  plus 
raisonnable;  et  qu’il  ne  lui  manquoit,  pour  reunir  tous  les  suffrages, 
que  d’avoir  ete  proposee  la  derniere.  Imagines  tous  vos  philoso¬ 
phies  anciens  et  modernes,  ayant  d’abord  epuise  leur  bizarres  sys- 
temes  de  forces,  de  chances,  de  fatalite,  de  necessite,  d’atomes,  de 
monde  anime,  de  matiere  vivante,  de  materialisme  de  toute  espece; 
et  apres  eux  tous  l’illustre  Clarke,  eclairant  le  monde,  annon^ant 
enfin  l’Etre  des  etres,  et  le  dispensateur  des  choses.  Avec  quelle 
universelle  admiration,  avec  quel  applaudissement  unanime  n’eut 
point  £te  re$u  ce  nouveau  systeme  si  grand,  si  consolant,  si  sub¬ 
lime,  si  propre  a  clever  Fame,  a  donner  une  base  a  la  vertu,  et  en 
meme  terns  si  frappant,  si  lumineux,  si  simple,  et,  ce  me  semble, 
offrant  moins  de  choses  incomprehensibles  a  l’esprit  humain,  qu’il 
n’en  trouve  d’absurdes  en  tout  autre  systeme!  Je  me  disois,  les  ob¬ 
jections  insolubles  sont  communes  a  tous,  parceque  l’esprit  de 
l’homme  est  trop  borne  pour  les  resoudre:  elles  ne  prouvent  done 
rien  contre  aucun  par  preference,  mais  quelle  difference  entre  les 
preuves  directes.” — (Emile,  tome  III.  livre  iv.  p.  25.) 

Note,  N,  p.  102,  103. 

“  F.st  autem  jus  quaedam  potentia  moralis,  et  obligatio  necessitas 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


293 


moralis.  Moralein  autem  intelligo,  quse  apud  virum  bonum  aequi- 
pollet  naturali:  Nam  ut  praeclare  jurisconsultus  Romanus  ait,  quag 
contra  bonos  mores  sunt ,  ea  nec  facere  nos  posse  credendum  est. 
Vir  bonus  autem  est,  qui  amat  dimes,  quantum  ratio  permittit. 
Justitiam  igitur,  quae  virtus  est  hujus  affectus  rectrix,  quern  qiw 
S-gmincu  Graeci  vocant,  commodissime,  ni  fallor,  definiemus  caritatem 
sapientis,  hoc  est,  sequentem  sapientiie  dictata.  Itaque,  quod  Car- 
neades  dixisse  fertur,  justitiam  esse  summam  stultitiam,  quia  alienis 
utilitatibus  consuli  jubeat,  neglectis  propriis,  ex  ignorata  ejus  defi- 
nitione  natum  est.  Caritas  est  benevolentia  universalis,  et  benevo- 
lentia  amandi  sive  diligendi  habitus.  Arnare  autem  sive  diligere  est 
felicitate  alterius  delectari,  vel,  quod  eodem  redit,  felicitatem  alie- 
nam  adsciscere  in  suam.  Unde  difficilis  nodus  solvitur,  magni  etiam 
in  Theologia  momenti,  quomodo  amor  non  mercenarius  detur,  qui 
sit  a  spe  metuque  et  omni  utilitatis  respectu  separatus:  scilicet,  quo¬ 
rum  utilitas  delectat,  eorum  felicitas  nostram  ingreditur,  nam  quae 
delectant,  per  se  expetuntur.  Et  uti  pulchrorum  contemplatio  ipsa 
jucunda  est,  pictaque  tabula  Raphaelis  intelligentem  afficit,  etsi 
nullos  census  ferat,  adeo  ut  in  oculis  deliciisque  feratur,  quodam 
simulacro  amoris;  ita  quum  res  pulchra  simul  etiam  felicitatis  est 
capax,  transit  affectus  in  verum  amorem.  Superat  autem  divinus 
amor  alios  amores,  quos  Deus  cum  maximo  successu  amare  potest, 
quando  Deo  simul  et  felicius  nihil  est,  et  nihil  pulchrius  felicitateque 
dignius  intelligi  potest.  Et  quum  idem  sit  potentiae  sapientiaeque 
summae,  felicitas  ejus  non  tantum  ingreditur  nostram  (si  sapimus, 
id  est,  ipsum  amamus),  sed  et  facit.  Quia  autem  sapientia  carita¬ 
tem  dirigere  debet,  hujus  quoque  definitione  opus  erit.  Arbitror 
autem  notioni  hominum  optime  satisfied,  si  sapientiam  nihil  aliud 
esse  dicamus,  quam  ipsam  scientiam  felicitatis.”  (Leibnitii  Opera, 
tom.  IV.  pars  iii.  p.  294.) 

“  Et  jus  quidem  merum  sive  strictum  nascitur  ex  principio  ser- 
vandae  pacis  ;  mquitas  sive  caritas  ad  majus  aliquid  contendit,  ut, 
dum  quisque  alteri  prodest  quantum  potest,  felicitatem  suam  augeat 
in  aliena  ;  et,  ut  verbo  dicam,  jus  strictum  miseriam  vitat,  jus  su- 
perius  ad  felicitatem  tendit,  sed  qualis  in  hanc  mortalitatem  cadit. 
Quod  vero  ipsam  vitam,  et  quicquid  hanc  vitam  expetendam  facit, 
magno  cornmodo  alieno  posthabere  debeamus,  ita  ut  maximos  etiam 
dolores  in  aliorum  gratiam  perferre  oporteat;  magis  pulchre  prae- 
cipitur  a  philosophis  quam  solide  demonstralur.  Nam  decus  et 
gloriam,  et  animi  sui  virtute  gaudentis  sensum,  ad  quaB  sub  hones- 
tatis  nomine  provocant,  cogitationis  sive  mentis  bona  esse  constat, 
magna  quidem,  sed  non  omnibus  nec  omni  malorum  acerbitati  prae- 


294 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


valitura,  quando  non  omnes  aeque  imaginando  afficiuntur  ;  praeser- 
tim  quos  neque  educatio  liberalis,  neque  consuetudo  vivendi  ingenua, 
vel  vitas  sectaeve  disciplina  ad  honoris  aestirnationem,  vel  animi  bona 
sentienda  assuefecit.  Ut  vero  universali  demonstratione  conficiatur, 
omne  honestum  esse  utile,  et  onine  turpe  damnosum,  assutnenda  est 
immortalitas  animae,  et  rector  universi  Deus.  Ita  fit,  ut  omnes  in 
civitate  perfectissima  vivere  intelligarnur,  sub  monarcha,  qui  nec  ob 
sapientiam  falli,  nec  ob  potentiam  vitari  potest ;  idemque  tarn  ama- 
bilis  est,  ut  felicitas  sit  tali  domino  servire.  Huic  igitur  qui  ani- 
mam  impendit,  Christo  docente,  earn  lucratur.  Hujus  potentia 
providentiaque  efficitur,  ut  omne  jus  in  factum  transeat,  ut  nemo 
laedatur  nisi  a  se  ipso,  ut  nihil  recte  gestum  sine  prasmio  sit,  nullum 
peccatum  sine  poena.”  (Ibid.  p.  296.) 

Note  O,  p.  108. 

The  writer  of  this  Discourse  was  led,  on  a  former  occasion,  by  a 
generally  prevalent  notion,  too  nearly  to  confound  the  theological 
doctrine  of  predestination  with  the  philosophical  opinion  which  sup¬ 
posed  the  determination  of  the  will  to  be,  like  other  events,  pro¬ 
duced  by  adequate  causes.  (See  a  criticism  on  Mr  Stewart’s  Dis¬ 
sertation,  Edinb.  Review ,  XXXVF.  255.)  More  careful  reflection 
has  corrected  a  confusion  common  to  him  with  most  writers  on  the 
subject.  What  is  called  Sublapsarian  Calvinism ,  which  was  the 
doctrine  of  the  most  eminent  men,  including  Augustin  and  Calvin 
himself,  ascribed  to  God,  and  to  man  before  the  fall,  what  is  called 
free-will,  which  they  even  own  still  to  exist  in  all  the  ordinary  acts 
of  life,  though  it  be  lost  with  respect  to  religious  morality.  The 
decree  of  election,  on  this  scheme,  arises  from  God’s  foreknowledge 
that  man  was  to  fall,  and  that  all  men  became  thereby  with  justice 
liable  to  eternal  punishment.  The  election  of  some  to  salvation 
was  an  act  of  divine  goodness,  and  the  preterition  of  the  rest  was 
an  exercise  of  holiness  and  justice. 

This  sublapsarian  predestination  is  evidently  irreconcilable  with 
the  doctrine  of  necessity,  which  considers  free-will,  or  volitions  not 
caused  by  motives,  as  absolutely  inconsistent  with  the  definition  of 
an  intelligent  being,  which  is,  that  he  acts  from  a  motive,  or,  in 
other  words,  with  a  purpose. 

The  supralapsarian  scheme,  which  represents  the  fall  itself  as 
fore-ordained,  may  indeed  be  built  on  necessitarian  principles.  But 
on  that  scheme  original  sin  seems  wholly  to  lose  that  importance 
which  the  former  system  gives  it  as  a  revolution  in  the  state  of  the 
world,  requiring  an  interposition  of  divine  power  to  remedy  a  part 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


295 


of  its  fatal  effects.  It  becomes  no  more  than  the  first  link  in  the 
chain  of  predestined  offences.  Yet  both  Catholic  and  Protestant 
predestinarians  have  borrowed  the  arguments  and  distinctions  of 
philosophical  necessitarians.  One  of  the  propositions  of  Jansenius, 
condemned  by  the  bull  of  Innocent  X.  in  1653,  is,  that  “to  merit 
or  demerit  in  a  state  of  lapsed  nature,  it  is  not  necessary  that  there 
should  be  in  man  a  liberty  free  from  necessity  ;  it  is  sufficient  that 
there  be  a  liberty  free  from  constraint.”  (Dupin,  Histoire  de 
VEglise  en  abrege ,  siecle  xvii.  livre  iv.  chap.  viii.  p.  193.)  Lu¬ 
ther,  in  his  once  famous  treatise  de  Servo  Jlrbitrio  against  Eras¬ 
mus  (printed  in  1526),  expresses  himself  as  follows:  “Hie  est 
fidei  summus  gradus,  credere  ilium  esse  clementem  qui  tarn  paucos 
salvat,  tarn  multos  damnat ;  credere  justum  qui  sua  voluntate  nos 
necessario  damnabiles  facit,  ut  videatur,  ut  Erasmus  refert,  delectari 
cruciatibus  miserorum,  et  odio  potius  quam  amore  dignus.”  My 
copy  of  this  stern  and  abusive  book  is  not  paged.  In  another  pas¬ 
sage,  he  states  the  distinction  between  co-action  and  necessity  as 
familiar  a  hundred  and  thirty  years  before  it  was  proposed  by  Hob¬ 
bes,  or  condemned  in  the  Jansenists.  “Necessario  dico,  non  co- 
acte,  sed,  ut  illi  dicunt,  necessitate  immutabilitatis,  non  coactionis  ; 
hoc  est,  homo,  cum  vocat  Spiritus  Dei,  non  quidem  violentia,  velut 
raptus  obtorto  collo,  nolens  facit  malum,  quemadmodum  fur  aut 
latro  nolens  ad  pcenam  ducitur,  sed  sponte  et  libera  voluntate  facit.” 
He  uses  also  the  illustration  of  Hobbes,  from  the  difference  between 
a  streamybreed  out  of  its  course  and  freely  flowing  in  its  channel. 

Note  P,  p.  135. 

Though  some  parts  of  the  substance  of  the  following  letter  have 
already  appeared  in  various  forms,  perhaps  the  account  of  Mr 
Hume’s  illness,  in  the  words  of  his  friend  and  physician  Dr  Cullen, 
will  be  acceptable  to  many  readers.  I  owe  it  to  the  kindness  of 
Mrs  Baillie,  who  had  the  goodness  to  copy  it  from  the  original,  in 
the  collection  of  her  late  learned  and  excellent  husband,  Dr  Baillie. 
Some  portion  of  what  has  been  formerly  published  I  do  not  think  it 
necessary  to  reprint. 

From  Dr  Cullen  to  Dr  Hunter. 

“  My  Dear  Friend, — I  was  favoured  with  yours  by  Mr  Halket 
on  Sunday,  and  have  answered  some  part  of  it  by  a  gentleman  whom 
I  was  otherwise  obliged  to  write  by  ;  but  as  I  was  not  certain  how 
soon  that  might  come  to  your  hand,  I  did  not  answer  your  post- 


296 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


script ;  in  doing  which,  if  I  can  oblige  you,  a  part  of  the  merit  must 
be  that  of  the  information  being  early,  and  I  therefore  give  it  you  as 
soon  as  I  possibly  could.  You  desire  an  account  of  Mr  Hume’s 
last  days,  and  I  give  it  you  with  some  pleasure  ;  for  though  I  could 
not  look  upon  him  in  his  illness  without  much  concern,  yet  the 
tranquillity  and  pleasantry  which  he  constantly  discovered  did  even 
then  give  me  satisfaction,  and,  now  that  the  curtain  is  dropped, 
allows  me  to  indulge  the  less  allayed  reflection.  He  was  truly  an 
example  des  grands  hommes  qui  sont  morts  en  plaisant.  For  many 
weeks  before  his  death  he  was  very  sensible  of  his  gradual  decay  ; 
and  his  answer  to  inquiries  after  his  health  was,  several  times,  that 
he  was  going  as  fast  as  his  enemies  could  wish,  and  as  easily  as  his 
friends  could  desire.  He  was  not,  however,  without  a  frequent  re¬ 
currence  of  pain  and  uneasiness;  but  he  passed  most  part  of  the 
day  in  his  drawing-room,  admitted  the  visits  of  his  friends,  and,  with 
his  usual  spirit,  conversed  with  them  upon  literature,  politics,  or 
whatever  else  was  accidentally  started.  In  conversation  he  seemed 
to  be  perfectly  at  ease,  and  to  the  last  abounded  with  that  pleasan¬ 
try,  and  those  curious  and  entertaining  anecdotes,  which  ever  dis¬ 
tinguished  him.  This,  however,  I  always  considered  rather  as  an 
effort  to  be  agreeable ;  and  he  at  length  acknowledged  that  it  be¬ 
came  too  much  for  his  strength.  For  a  few  days  before  his  death, 
he  became  more  averse  to  receive  visits ;  speaking  became  more 
and  more  difficult  for  him,  and  for  twelve  hours  before  his  death  his 
speech  failed  altogether.  His  senses  and  judgment  did  not  fail  till 
the  last  hour  of  his  life.  He  constantly  discovered  a  strong  sensi¬ 
bility  to  the  attention  and  care  of  his  friends  ;  and,  amidst  great 
uneasiness  and  languor,  never  betrayed  any  peevishness  or  impa¬ 
tience.  This  is  a  general  account  of  his  last  days  ;  but  a  particular 
fact  or  two  may  perhaps  convey  to  you  a  still  better  idea  of  them. 
******* 

tC  About  a  fortnight  before  his  death,  he  added  a  codicil  to  his 
will,  in  which  he  fully  discovered  his  attention  to  his  friends,  as  well 
as  his  own  pleasantry.  What  little  wine  he  himself  drank  was 
generally  port,  a  wine  for  which  his  friend  the  poet  [John  Home"] 
had  ever  declared  the  strongest  aversion.  David  bequeaths  to  his 
friend  John  one  bottle  of  port;  and,  upon  condition  of  his  drinking 
this  even  at  two  down-sittings,  bestows  upon  him  twelve  dozen  of 
his  best  claret.  He  pleasantly  adds,  that  this  subject  of  wine  was 
the  only  one  upon  which  they  had  ever  differed.  In  the  codicil 
there  are  several  other  strokes  of  raillery  and  pleasantry,  highly 
expressive  of  the  cheerfulness  which  he  then  enjoyed.  He  even 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


2  97 


turned  his  attention  to  some  of  the  simple  amusements  with  which 
he  had  been  formerly  pleased.  In  the  neighbourhood  of  his  bro¬ 
ther’s  house  in  Berwickshire  is  a  brook,  by  which  the  access  in  time 
of  floods  is  frequently  interrupted.  Mr  Hume  bequeaths  i.lOO  for 
building  a  bridge  over  this  brook,  but  upon  the  express  condition 
that  none  of  the  stones  for  that  purpose  shall  be  taken  from  a  quarry 
in  the  neighbourhood,  which  forms  part  of  a  romantic  scene  in 
which,  in  his  earlier  days,  Mr  Hume  took  particular  delight.  Other¬ 
wise  the  money  to  go  to  the  poor  of  the  parish. 

“  These  are  a  few  particulars  which  may  perhaps  appear  trifling; 
but  to  me  no  particulars  seem  trifling  that  relate  to  so  great  a  man. 
It  is  perhaps  from  trifles  that  we  can  best  distinguish  the  tranquillity 
and  cheerfulness  of  the  philosopher,  at  a  time  when  the  most  part  of 
mankind  are  under  disquiet,  anxiety,  and  sometimes  even  horror.... 
I  had  gone  so  far  when  I  was  called  to  the  country;  and  I  have 
returned  only  so  long  before  the  post  as  to  say,  that  I  am  most 
affectionately  yours, 

“  William  Cullen. 

“  Edinburgh ,  11th  September  1776.” 


Note  Q,  p.  137. 

Pyrrho  was  charged  with  carrying  his  scepticism  so  far  as  not  to 
avoid  a  carriage  if  it  was  driven  against  him.  ^Enesidemus,  the 
most  famous  of  ancient  sceptics,  with  great  probability  vindicates 
the  more  ancient  doubter  from  such  lunacy,  of  which  indeed  his 
having  lived  to  the  age  of  ninety  seems  sufficient  to  acquit  him. 

AivtcriSn/uoi  St  <fn<rt  qtko<ro<ptlv  /utv  avtov  ka ta  t ov  ths  toro^n;  koyov,  /am  juivtoi 

yt  etsrgoog<*T»«  Iaatta  ?rgciTT«v.  (Diog.  Laert.  lib.  ix.  sect.  62.) 

Brief  and  imperfect  as  our  accounts  of  ancient  scepticism  are,  it 
does  appear  that  their  reasoning  on  the  subject  of  causation  had 
some  resemblance  to  that  of  Mr  Hume,  AvAigoum  St  to  aitiov  aJV  to 

AITIOV  TOOV  OTgOC  Tl  tTTt,  7TgOC  yc. tg  T fid  AITtCeTATU)  t<TTt‘  TA  St  TTgOO  T I  tTtlVOilTAl 
(AOVOV  VVAg^tl  St  0U-  KAI  TO  AITIOV  OUV  tTtVOOlTO  O.V  fAOVOV.  ( lMd .  iX.  SCCt. 

97.)  It  is  perhaps  impossible  to  translate  the  important  technical 
expression  ta  tt^oo  t t.  It  comprehends  two  or  more  things  as  re¬ 
lated  to  each  other — both  the  relative  and  correlative  taken  together 
as  such.  Fire  considered  as  having  the  power  of  burning  wood  is 
to  ng oc  Tt.  The  words  of  Laertius  may  therefore  be  nearly  rendered 
into  the  language  of  modern  philosophy  as  follows:  u  Causation  they 
take  away  thus.  A  cause  is  so  only  in  relation  to  an  effect.  What 
2  N 


298 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


is  relative  is  only  conceived,  but  does  not  exist.  Therefore  cause  is 
a  mere  conception.” 

The  first  attempt  to  prove  the  necessity  of  belief  in  a  divine  reve¬ 
lation,  by  demonstrating  that  natural  reason  leads  to  universal  scep¬ 
ticism,  was  made  by  Algazel,  a  professor  at  Bagdad,  in  the  begin¬ 
ning  of  the  twelfth  century  of  our  era;  whose  work  entitled  The 
Destruction  of  the  Philosopher  is  known  to  us  only  by  the  answer 
of  Averroes,  called  Destruction  of  the  Destruction.  He  denied  a 
necessary  connexion  between  cause  and  effect;  for  of  two  separate 
things,  the  affirmation  of  the  existence  of  one  does  not  necessarily 
contain  the  affirmation  of  the  existence  of  the  other;  and  the  same 
may  be  said  of  denial.  It  is  curious  enough  that,  this  argument  was 
more  especially  pointed  against  those  Arabian  philosophers  who, 
from  the  necessary  connexion  of  causes  and  effects,  reasoned  against 
the  possibility  of  miraclesj  thus  anticipating  one  doctrine  of  Mr 
Hume,  to  impugn  another.  (Tenneman,  Gesch.  der  Phil.  VIII. 
387.) 

The  same  attempt  was  made  by  the  learned  but  unphilosophical 
Huet,  bishop  of  Avranches  (Qucestiones  Alnetance,  Caen,  1690,  and 
Traite  de  la  Foiblesse  de  V Esprit  Humain,  Amsterdam,  1723).  A 
similar  motive  urged  Berkeley  to  his  attack  on  Fluxions.  The 
attempt  of  Huet  has  been  lately  renewed  by  the  Abbe  Lamennais, 
in  his  treatise  on  Religious  Indifference ;  a  fine  writer,  whose  ap¬ 
parent  reasonings  amount  to  little  more  than  well-varied  assertions, 
and  well-disguised  assumptions  of  the  points  to  be  proved. 

To  build  religion  upon  scepticism  is  the  most  extravagant  of  all 
attempts;  for  it  destroys  the  proofs  of  a  divine  mission,  and  leaves 
no  natural  means  of  distinguishing  between  revelation  and  imposture. 
The  Abbe  Lamennais  represents  authority  as  the  sole  ground  of 
belief.  Why?  If  any  reason  can  be  given,  the  proposition  must  be 
false;  if  none,  it  is  obviously  a  mere  groundless  assertion. 

Note  R,  p.  144. 

Casanova,  a  Venetian  doomed  to  solitary  imprisonment  in  the 
dungeons  at  Venice  in  1755,  thus  speaks  of  the  only  books  which 
for  a  time  he  was  allowed  to  read.  The  title  of  the  first  was  La 
Cite  Mystique  de  Sceur  Marie  de  Jesus ,  appellee  d'Agrada. 

“J’y  lus  tout  ce  que  peut  enfanter  l’imagination  exaltee  d’une 
vierge  Espagnole  extravagamment  devote,  cloitree,  melancholique, 
ayant  de3  directeurs  de  conscience,  ignorans,  faux,  et  devots. 
Amoureuse  et  amie  tres  intime  de  la  Sainte  Vierge,  elle  avait  re<ju 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSXUATIONS. 


299 


ordre  de  Dieu  meme  d’ecrire  la  vie  de  sa  divine  mere.  Les  in¬ 
structions  necessaires  lui  avaient  ete  fournies  par  le  Saint  Esprit. 
Elle  commen^oit  la  vie  de  Marie,  non  pas  du  jour  de  sa  naissance, 
mais  du  moment  de  son  immaculee  conception  dans  le  sein  de  sa 
mere  Anne.  Apres  avoir  narre  en  detail  tout  ce  que  sa  divine 
heroine  fit  les  neuf  mois  qu’elle  a  passe  dans  le  sein  maternel,  elle 
nous  apprend  qu’a  l’age  de  trois  ans  elle  balayoit  la  maison,  aidee 
par  neuf  cents  domestiques,  tous  anges,  commandes  par  leur  propre 
Prince  Michel.  Ce  qui  frappe  dans  ce  livre  est  l’assurance  que 
tout  est  dit  de  bonne  foi.  Ce  sont  les  visions  d’un  esprit  sublime, 
qui,  sans  aucune  ombre  d’orgueil,  ivre  de  Dieu,  croit  ne  reveler  que 
ce  que  l’Esprit  Saint  lui  inspire.”  (Memoir es  de  Casanova ,  IV. 
343.  Leipsic,  1827.) 

A  week’s  confinement  to  this  volume  produced  such  an  effect  on 
the  author,  who,  though  an  unbeliever  and  a  debauchee,  was  then 
enfeebled  by  melancholy,  bad  air,  and  bad  food,  that  his  sleep  was 
haunted,  and  his  waking  hours  disturbed  by  its  horrible  visions. 
Many  years  after,  passing  through  Agrada  in  Old  Castile,  he 
charmed  the  old  priest  of  that  village  by  speaking  of  the  biographer 
of  the  virgin.  The  priest  showed  him  all  the  spots  which  were 
consecrated  by  her  presence,  and  bitterly  lamented  that  the  Court 
of  Rome  had  refused  to  canonize  her.  It  is  the  natural  reflection 
of  the  writer,  that  the  book  was  well  qualified  to  turn  a  solitary 
prisoner  mad,  or  to  make  a  man  at  large  an  atheist.  It  ought  not 
to  be  forgotten,  that  the  inquisitors  of  state  at  Venice,  who  pro¬ 
scribed  this  book,  were  probably  of  the  latter  persuasion.  It  is  a 
striking  instance  of  the  infatuation  of  those  who,  in  their  eagerness 
to  rivet  the  bigotry  of  the  ignorant,  use  means  which  infallibly  tend 
to  spread  utter  unbelief  among  the  educated.  The  book  is  a  dis¬ 
gusting,  but  in  its  general  outline  seemingly  faithful,  picture  of  the 
dissolute  manners  spread  over  the  Continent  of  Europe  in  the  mid¬ 
dle  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

Note  S,  p.  148. 

“  The  Treatise  on  the  Law  of  War  and  Peace,  the  Essay  on 
Human  Understanding,  the  Spirit  of  Laws,  and  the  Inquiry  into  the 
Causes  of  the  Wealth  of  Nations,  are  the  works  which  have  most 
directly  influenced  the  general  opinion  of  Europe  during  the  two 
last  centuries.  They  are  also  the  most  conspicuous  landmarks  in 
the  progress  of  the  sciences  to  which  they  relate.  It  is  remarkable 
that  the  defects  of  all  these  great  works  are  very  similar.  The 
leading  notions  of  none  of  them  can,  in  the  strictest  sense,  be  said 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


300 

to  be  original,  though  Loeke  and  Smith  in  that  respect  surpass  their 
illustrious  rivals.  All  of  them  employ  great  care  in  ascertaining 
those  laws  which  are  immediately  deduced  from  experience,  or 
directly  applicable  to  practice;  but  apply  metaphysical  and  abstract 
principles  with  considerable  negligence.  None  pursues  the  order 
of  science,  beginning  with  first  elements,  and  advancing  to  more 
and  more  complicated  conclusions;  though  Locke  is  perhaps  less 
defective  in  method  than  the  rest.  All  admit  digressions  which, 
though  often  intrinsically  excellent,  distract  attention,  and  break  the 
chain  of  thought.  None  of  them  is  happy  in  the  choice,  or  constant 
in  the  use,  of  technical  terms;  and  in  none  do  we  find  much  of  that 
rigorous  precision  which  is  the  first  beauty  of  philosophical  language. 
Grotius  and  Montesquieu  were  imitators  of  Tacitus, — the  first  with 
more  gravity,  the  second  with  more  vivacity;  but  both  were  tempted 
to  forsake  the  simple  diction  of  science,  in  pursuit  of  the  poignant 
brevity  which  that  great  historian  has  carried  to  a  vicious  excess. 
Locke  and  Smith  chose  an  easy,  clear,  and  free,  but  somewhat 
loose  and  verbose  style — more  concise  in  Locke* — more  elegant  in 
Smith, — in  both  exempt  from  pedantry,  but  not  void  of  ambiguity 
and  repetition.  Perhaps  all  these  apparent  defects  contributed  in 
some  degree  to  the  specific  usefulness  of  these  great  works;  and,  by 
rendering  their  contents  more  accessible  and  acceptable  to  the 
majority  of  readers,  have  more  completely  blended  their  principles 
with  the  common  opinions  of  mankind.”— Edinburgh  Review ,  Vol. 
XXXVI.  p.  244. 


Note  T,  p.  160. 

An  ovru>s,  oorTTtQ  tv  y^m/u.juct'niui  co  /Avlm  vvct^yji  tvrtM^tta.  yty^ny.fjitvo'i' 
osreg  <rufx/2*.ivu  im  tow  vou.  (Arist.  de  Anima ,  lib.  iii.  cap.  v.  Opera, 
tom.  II.  p.  50.  Paris,  1639.) 

A  little  before,  in  the  same  treatise,  appears  a  great  part  of  the 
substance  of  the  famous  maxim,  Nil  estin  intellectu  quod  nonprius 
juit  in  SenSU.  *  H It  ^avTenr/a,  g.iv»<ris  ms  Icmt  ttvui,  x.a/  own  avew  ais-Sxcrgac 
ytynoStLi.  (Ibid.  47.) 

In  the  tract  on  Memory  and  Reminiscence  we  find  his  enumeration 
of  the  principles  of  association.  Aia.Kcu  to  g<pgf»c  6 »g«wo,uev,  vonaown ts 

ano  tow  vwv  »  otAAow  t /m,  *«/  cLf'  o/aoiqu  »  svavT/ow,  »  row  a-vvtyyvs ■  (Ibid. 

II.  86.)  If  the  latter  word  be  applied  to  time  as  well  as  space,  and 
considered  as  comprehending  causation,  the  enumeration  will  coin¬ 
cide  with  that  of  Hume.  The  term  fi«g6w«  is  as  significant  as  if  it 
had  been  chosen  by  Hobbes.  But  it  is  to  be  observed,  that  these 
principles  are  applied  only  to  explain  memory. 

Something  has  been  said  on  the  subject,  and  something  on  the 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATION'S. 


30  I 

•present  writer,  by  Mr  Coleridge,  in  his  unfortunately  unfinished  work 
called  Biographia  Liter  aria,  chap.  v. ,  which  seems  to  justify,  if 
not  to  require,  a  few  remarks.  That  learned  gentleman  seems  to 
have  been  guilty  of  an  oversight  in  quoting  as  a  distinct  work  the 
Parva  Naturalia ,  which  is  the  collective  name  given  by  the  scholas¬ 
tic  translators  to  those  treatises  of  Aristotle  which  form  the  second 
volume  of  Duval’s  edition  of  his  works,  published  at  Paris  in  1639. 
I  have  already  acknowledged  the  striking  resemblance  of  Mr  Hume’s 
principles  of  association  to  those  of  Aristotle.  In  answer,  however, 
to  a  remark  of  Mr  Coleridge,  I  must  add,  that  the  manuscript  of  a 
part  of  Aquinas  which  I  bought  many  years  ago  (on  the  faith  of  a 
bookseller’s  catalogue)  as  being  written  by  Mr  Hume,  was  not  a 
copy  of  the  Commentary  on  the  Parva  Naturalia ,  but  of  Aquinas’s 
own  Secunda  Secundee;  and  that,  on  examination,  it  proves  not  to 
be  the  handwriting  of  Mr  Hume,  and  to  contain  nothing  written  by 
him.  It  is  certain  that,  in  the  passages  immediately  preceding  the 
-quotation,  Aristotle  explains  recollection  as  depending  on  a  general 
law, — that  the  idea  of  an  object  will  remind  us  of  the  objects  which 
immediately  preceded  or  followed  when  originally  perceived.  But 
what  Mr  Coleridge  has  not  told  us  is,  that  the  Stagyrite  confines  the 
application  of  this  law  exclusively  to  the  phenomena  of  recollection 
alone,  without  any  glimpse  of  a  more  general  operation  extending 
to  all  connexions  of  thought  and  feeling, — a  wonderful  proof,  indeed, 
even  so  limited,  of  the  sagacity  of  the  great  philosopher,  but  which 
for  many  ages  continued  barren  of  further  consequences.  The 
illustrations  of  Aquinas  throw  light  on  the  original  doctrine,  and 
show  that  it  was  unenlarged  in  his  time.  “  When  we  recollect 
Socrates,  the  thought  of  Plato  occurs  ‘  as  like  him.’  When  we 
remember  Hector,  the  thought  of  Achilles  occurs  ‘  as  contrary.’ 
The  idea  of  a  father  is  followed  by  that  of  a  son  ‘  as  near.’  ”  (Aquin. 
Opera,  I.  pars  ii.  p.  62,  et  seq.)  Those  of  Ludovicus  Vives,  as 
quoted  by  Mr  Coleridge,  extend  no  farther. 

But  if  Mr  Coleridge  will  compare  the  parts  of  Hobbes  on  Human 
Nature  which  relate  to  this  subject,  with  those  which  explain  general 
terms,  he  will  perceive  that  the  philosopher  of  Malmesbury  builds 
on  these  two  foundations  a  general  theory  of  the  human  understand¬ 
ing,  of  which  reasoning  is  only  a  particular  case.  In  consequence 
of  the  assertion  of  Mr  Coleridge,  that  Hobbes  was  anticipated  by 
Descartes  in  his  excellent  and  interesting  discourse  on  Method,  I 
have  twice  reperused  that  work  in  quest  of  this  remarkable  antici¬ 
pation,  though,  as  I  thought,  well  acquainted  by  my  old  studies  with 
the  writings  of  that  great  philosopher.  My  labour  has,  however, 


302 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


been  vain.  I  have  discovered  no  trace  of  that  or  of  any  similar 
speculation.  My  edition  is  in  Latin  by  Elzevir,  at  Amsterdam,  in 
1650,  the  year  of  Descartes’s  death.  I  am  obliged,  therefore,  to 
conjecture  that  Mr  Coleridge,  having  mislaid  his  references,  has, 
by  mistake,  quoted  the  discourse  on  Method ,  instead  of  another 
work;  which  would  affect  his  inference  from  the  priority  of  Descartes 
to  Hobbes.  It  is  not  to  be  denied,  that  the  opinion  of  Aristotle, 
repeated  by  so  many  commentators,  may  have  found  its  way  into  the 
mind  of  Hobbes,  and  also  of  Hume;  though  neither  might  be  aware 
of  its  source,  or  even  conscious  that  it  was  not  originally  his  own. 
Yet  the  very  narrow  view  of  association  by  Locke,  his  apparently 
treating  it  as  a  novelty,  and  the  silence  of  common  books  respecting 
it,  afford  a  presumption  that  the  Peripatetic  doctrine  was  so  little 
known,  that  it  might  have  escaped  the  notice  of  these  philosophers, 
one  of  whom  boasted  that  he  was  unread,  and  the  other  is  not  liable 
to  the  suspicion  of  unacknowledged  borrowing. 

To  Mr  Coleridge,  who  distrusts  his  own  power  of  building  a  bridge 
by  which  his  ideas  may  pass  into  a  mind  so  differently  trained  as 
mine,  I  venture  to  suggest,  with  that  sense  of  his  genius  which  no 
circumstance  has  hindered  me  from  seizing  every  fit  occasion  to 
manifest,  that  more  of  my  early  years  were  employed  in  contem¬ 
plations  of  an  abstract  nature,  than  of  those  of  the  majority  of  his 
readers;  that  there  are  not,  even  now,  many  of  them  less  likely  to 
be  repelled  from  doctrines  by  singularity  or  uncouthness;  more  will¬ 
ing  to  allow  that  every  system  has  caught  an  advantageous  glimpse 
of  some  side  or  corner  of  the  truth;  more  desirous  of  exhibiting  this 
dispersion  of  the  fragments  of  wisdom  by  attempts  to  translate  the 
doctrine  of  one  school  into  the  language  of  another; — who,  when 
he  cannot  discover  a  reason  for  an  opinion,  considers  it  as  important 
to  discover  the  causes  of  its  adoption  by  the  philosopher;  believing, 
in  the  most  unfavourable  cases,  that  one  of  the  most  arduous  and 
useful  researches  of  mental  philosophy  is  to  explore  the  subtile 
illusions  which  enable  great  minds  to  satisfy  themselves  by  mere 
words,  before  they  deceive  others  by  payment  in  the  same  counterfeit 
coin.  These  habits,  together  with  the  natural  influence  of  my  age 
and  avocations,  lead  me  to  suspect  that  in  speculative  philosophy  I 
am  nearer  to  indifference  than  to  an  exclusive  spirit.  I  hope  that 
it  can  neither  be  thought  presumptuous  nor  offensive  in  me  to  doubt, 
whether  the  circumstance  of  its  being  found  difficult  to  convey  a 
metaphysical  doctrine  to  a  person  who,  at  one  part  of  his  life, 
made  such  studies  his  chief  pursuit,  may  not  imply  either  error  in 
the  opinion,  or  defect  in  the  mode  of  communication. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


303 


Note  V,  p.  195. 

A  very  late  writer,  who  seems  to  speak  for  Mr  Bentham  with 
authority,  tells  us  that  “  the  first  time  the  phrase  of  ‘  the  principle 
of  utility’  was  brought  decidedly  into  notice,  was  in  the  ‘  Essays,  by 
David  Hume,’  published  about  the  year  1742.  In  that  work  it  is 
mentioned  as  the  name  of  a  principle  which  might  be  made  the  foun¬ 
dation  of  a  system  of  morals,  in  opposition  to  a  system  then  in  vogue , 
which  was  founded  on  what  was  called  the  1  moral  sensed  The 
ideas,  however,  there  attached  to  it,  are  vague ,  and  defective  in 
practical  application .”  (  Westminster  Review ,  No.  xxi.)  If  these 

few  sentences  were  scrutinized  with  the  severity  and  minuteness  of 
Bentham’s  Fragment  on  Government ,  they  would  be  found  to  con¬ 
tain  almost  as  many  misremembrances  as  assertions.  Utility  is  not 
u  mentioned but  fully  discussed,  in  Mr  Hume’s  Discourse.  It  is 
seldom  spoken  of  by  “  name.”  Instead  of  charging  it  with  44  vague¬ 
ness  ,”  it  would  be  more  just  to  admire  the  precision  which  it  com¬ 
bines  with  beauty.  Instead  of  being  44  defective  in  practical  applica¬ 
tion  ,”  perhaps  the  desire  of  rendering  it  popular  has  crowded  it  with 
examples  and  illustrations  taken  from  life.  To  the  assertion  that 
11  it  was  opposed  to  the  moral  sense,”  no  reply  can  be  needful  but 
the  following  words  extracted  from  the  Discourse  itself:  14 1  am  apt 
to  suspect  that  reason  and  sentiment  concur  in  almost  all  moral  de¬ 
terminations  and  conclusions.  The  final  sentence  which  pronounces 
characters  and  actions  amiable  or  odious ,  probably  depends  on  some 
internal  sense  or  feeling,  which  nature  has  made  universal  in  the 
whole  species .”  (An  Enquiry  concerning  the  Principles  of  Morals, 
sect,  i.)  The  phrase  44  made  universal,”  which  is  here  used  instead 
of  the  more  obvious  and  common  word  44  implanted,”  shows  the 
anxious  and  perfect  precision  of  language,  by  which  a  philosopher 
avoids  the  needless  decision  of  a  controversy  not  at  the  moment  be¬ 
fore  him. 


Note  W,  p.  198. 

A  writer  of  consummate  ability,  who  has  failed  in  little  but  the  res¬ 
pect  due  to  the  abilities  and  character  of  his  opponents,  has  given 
too  much  countenance  to  the  abuse  and  confusion  of  language  ex¬ 
emplified  in  the  well-known  verse  of  Pope, 

Modes  of  self-love  the  Passions  we  may  call. 

44  We  know,”  says  he, 44  no  universal  proposition  respecting  human 


304 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


nature  which  is  true  but  one — that  men  always  act  from  self-inter-- 
est.”  ( Edinburgh  Review ,  March  1829.)  It  is  manifest  from 
the  sequel,  that  the  writer  is  not  the  dupe  of  the  confusion;  "but 
many  of  his  readers  may  be  so.  If,  indeed,  the  word  self-interest 
could  with  propriety  be  used  for  the  gratification  of  every  prevalent 
desire,  he  has  clearly  shown  that  this  change  in  the  signification  of 
terms  would  be  of  no  advantage  to  the  doctrine  which  he  contro¬ 
verts.  It  would  make  as  many  sorts  of  self-interest  as  there  are 
appetites,  and  it  is  irreconcilably  at  variance  with  the  system  of  as¬ 
sociation  embraced  by  Mr  Mill.  To  the  word  self-love  Hartley 
properly  assigns  two  significations:  1.  Gross  self-love,  which  con¬ 
sists  in  the  pursuit  of  the  greatest  pleasures,  from  all  those  desires 
which  look  to  individual  gratification  ;  or,  2.  refined  self-love,  which 
seeks  the  greatest  pleasure  which  can  arise  from  all  the  desires  of 
human  nature, — the  latter  of  which  is  an  invaluable,  though  inferior 
principle.  The  admirable  writer  whose  language  has  occasioned 
this  illustration,  who  at  an  early  age  has  mastered  every  species  of 
composition,  will  doubtless  hold  fast  to  simplicity,  which  survives 
all  the  fashions  of  deviation  from  it,  and  which  a  man  of  a  genius  so 
fertile  has  few  temptations  to  forsake. 


,  /«  ted  U.  uJkRie-lu.  Acn-^/ 


I 


7 14  r  tlx.  S  f  l  ^ 


THE  END. 


i 


, 


BJ301  .M15 

A  general  view  of  the  progress  of 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary-Speer  Library 


1  1012  00008  9765 


